Gathering Heroes
by shmc
Summary: The Fifth Blight looms on the horizon, and Duncan must gather recruits to face it. In his search, he finds a young man, born in privilege and saved from betrayal and death, and a young woman, who grew up captive with her life in the hands of others. This is a story before the story, the origins of a young man and woman unaware of the great destiny that lies before them.
1. The Harrowing

**A/N: **This story takes place before my primary Origins story, and introduces the major characters. I made this a separate story for a few reasons, the first of which being that I had already typed them up before I realized that I really didn't want them as a part of my main story. The reason I didn't want them in story is because these first few chapters disrupted the flow of the story I had in mind, and I thought that if they were a part of it I would have to change how I wanted it written. But, I already had started and put a descent amount of work into these first few chapters, so I just thought I'll upload them as a short story consisting of the character's origin stories.

**Warning: **This story is rated T for slightly violent scenes of action and language.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything of the Dragon Age universe. This was created purely for fans by a fan. Read and enjoy!

**Gathering Heroes**

**Chapter One: The Harrowing**

_"The Circle of Magi exists to protect mages from a world that fears them, or so the young apprentices that are brought there are told. In truth, it exists as much to protect the world from the mages themselves. A time once existed when mages ruled the known world, bringing down ruin upon their enemies until at last they were overthrown. Now they are watched carefully by the Templars, mage-hunters aligned with the Chantry priests who would not hesitate to strike down any mage at the first sign of corruption..."_

* * *

The sound of her footsteps echoing off the stone was the only thing in Selene's ears as she ascended the tower. The templar had come to get her long after she had settled for sleep, his hand crushing her arm in an iron grip, roughly shaking her from slumber and yanking her from her bed.

Now they walked up and up the tower, staircase after staircase, though to what she had no idea. Selene had lived in this tower for almost 10 years, ever since she was seven, and something like this had never happened to her. They had gone up past the libraries, past the apprentice chambers, even past the mage and enchanters' quarters. She had thought of asking the templar where he was taking her, but she quickly squashed the thought, knowing that he most likely would not answer her.

Finally, they reached what she knew had to be the top floor of the tower. The tower's top floor was a massive, open chamber, usually reserved for special occasions that required all the mages and templars to gather in one room, and she had only been here once before.

Standing inside the room were several more templars, including the Knight Commander, and First Enchanter Irving. Selene struggled to figure out why they would be here at this time of night, why her presence was necessary, but came up blank.

Luckily, she did not have to wonder for long. The templar released his hold on her arm, and the First Enchanter moved to intercept her. However, before he could speak, the Knight Commander's voice split the silence.

"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Thus spoke the prophet Andraste, as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the brink of ruin." He preached, gazing at her with his hard eyes. "Your magic is a gift, but it is also a curse, for demons of the dream realm, the Fade, are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a portal to this realm."

Had she not been so tired and confused, Selene might have been offended that he felt the need to tell her this like it was news. After all, that has been said to her times beyond counting since she came to the tower years ago.

The First Enchanter now spoke up, his croaking voice tired and resigned. "This is why the Harrowing exists." The Harrowing! Now it all made sense. This was the ordeal awaiting all apprentices of the tower, in order to become true mages of the circle. However, what the Harrowing consisted of was not exactly clear. Was she supposed to perform some kind of advanced spell work, to prove her capability?

The First Enchanter's next words swiftly dashed that idea. "The ritual sends you into the Fade, and there, you will face a demon, armed with only your will."

Selene was floored by the revelation. She was to battle a demon? She knew she needed to prove her skill, but this was so extreme. She hesitated for a few moments before asking tentatively "I'm to face a demon? Why not some other task?" The First Enchanter opened his mouth to respond, but the Knight Commander cut him off again.

"Because, you must prove you have the will to resist a demon's temptation. If you fail, it is better you do now when we are prepared, rather than later, when you could unleash havoc upon the tower."

Selene knew exactly what they meant by them "being ready". If she failed, she was dead. Certain things were as simple as that in this place. First Enchanter Irving gently gripped her arm and turned her to face him.

"The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity child. Every mage must go through this trial by fire, and as we succeeded, so shall you." Now he leaned in, speaking in an earnest whisper. "Keep your wits about you, and remember that the Fade is a realm of dreams. The spirits may rule it, but your own will is real. And-"

"The apprentice must go through this test **alone**, First Enchanter." She jerked around to face the Knight Commander, looking into that cold face of his. It seemed to soften just a little bit, and he gestured towards the center of the room. "You are ready." He intoned with a surprising gentleness.

Selene turned to face where Gregoir had directed her. There, inside that pedestal in the center of the chamber, was lyrium. She had never actually seen it, as it was forbidden to the apprentices, and it was just as she had imagined it. It was a glowing blue, surrounded by a shimmering white mist, and it seemed to call out to her, urging her towards it.

She obeyed the urge, her feet pulling her closer and closer, her arm extending forward. Her fingers brushed the liquid, and it was if someone had shocked her with lightning. A tingling, near painful electrification shot up her arm, and it felt like her blood was white hot in her veins. A blinding white light filled her vision, and then as quick as it all happened, the feeling faded away and her body felt numb. The white fled her vision, and was quickly replaced with utter darkness.

Selene felt herself fall away into that cold and dark numbness, and didn't even feel it when her body crumpled to the ground.

* * *

_She was in another world._

_That was always so apparent whenever Selene entered the Fade. Everything seemed unreal, as if looking at it through a haze, and nothing seemed able to decide how it wanted to look. Trees rose, collapsed into boulders, flattened into fields of grass, ever changing and whimsical._

_Remembering Irving's words, she focused her mind, willing the world around her to remain steady. It heeded her, settling into unusual rolling hills, covered in huge spiked objects that seemed to be somewhere between trees and rocks._

_Well, nowhere else to go but forward. Turning, she began to walk, but noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Turning, Selene let out a gasp. Off to the side of the area she stood in was a horrid looking statue, a tall, gnarled humanoid with huge, claw-like blades instead of hands. A savage grin curved across its face, eyes seeming to stare right at her._

_Suppressing a shiver, she turned away from the stone horror and began to move off down a nearby slope. She was in the midst of admiring the shimmering scenery when a bolt of electricity slammed into her chest, sending her reeling._

_Selene straightened, glaring out at her attacker. A wisp hovered above the shifting ground, buzzing menacingly with more electricity. "Ouch! I thought wisps were supposed to be helpful." She cried, glaring out the angry spirit. Wisps were frequently summoned by mages for minor magical assistance, but this one seemed to have no desire to help._

_Summoning her mana, she retaliated with her own bolt of electricity, though hers was far more powerful. With a loud pop, the wisp flashed into nothing, and Selene grinned happily. Here in the Fade, magic came much more quickly, so fast she didn't even need to weave the patterns of energy that helped focus the spells._

_Satisfied that nothing else would attack her, Selene moved ahead, taking out a few more wisps and looking around for whatever it was she was supposed to face._

_"Someone else thrown to the wolves, as fresh and unprepared as ever. It isn't right of the templars to do this, not you, me, or anyone!" Selene, jumped at the voice and twisted around, searching for the speaker. "Hello? Where are you?"_

_"Down here." Raising a brow, she slowly lowered her gaze to the ground. Staring up at her with disturbingly intelligent black eyes, was a rat. A rat that had just talked to her. As if the Fade wasn't freaky enough on its own._

_"A talking rodent, of all things. Maker, can this night get any worse?" She moaned, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. First, she gets dragged out of bed for her Harrowing, then finds out the Harrowing consists of her being thrown against a demon. Now, to top it all off, she was standing in the middle of some Fade field talking to a rat._

_"Oh, I can assure you, it'll only get worse after me. You're in the Fade." The creature said, shaking its furry head in what had to be sadness._

_Selene rolled her eyes. "I'm perfectly aware of where I am, Spirit." Even if she wasn't in the Harrowing, it was still painfully obvious where she was._

_"Then you know what lies before you? You know that you will be forced to engage a demon, with only your wits to protect you. You know that if you fail, you will **die**." The mouse gazed at her with disturbing intensity, black eyes burning._

_Selene couldn't keep the tremor out of her voice. "I am aware." She would be lying if she said she wasn't afraid. The knowledge of what would happen if she failed ran echoed in the back of her mind, filling her with dread and worry._

_If possible, the mouse seemed to quirk a brow at her. "Are you also aware of the time limit?"_

_"What?" Selene let out a gasp, staring incredulously at the creature before her. That was a lie, it had to be. The templars were capable of many things, but that was cruel beyond belief. Light surrounded the animal, and with a flash, in its place was a man, standing noticeably taller than Selene._

_"Well, then let me inform you. If you haven't awoken before the templars feel you should, they will kill you, "just to be safe". That is what they did to me. I was an apprentice, just like you." That seemed a bit off to Selene. He didn't wear the blue robes of an apprentice, but instead the red robes of a senior enchanter, and he looked a bit old for an apprentice.._

_"I was called for my Harrowing, and that was the last time I was within the mortal realm. They must have killed me, because I was unable to leave, forever trapped within this ever-shifting world." He lowered his head in sadness, emotion cracking his voice. "So much can be lost in this realm. My real name was one of those things. I learned to take the shape of a mouse, something small to hide from the more dangerous creatures. That is what and who I am now, just Mouse." Well, that pulled at the heartstrings. Selene felt guilty for her lack of trust earlier, as this poor soul seemed completely lost._

_He lifted his gaze to meet hers, a fire entering his voice. "All thanks to the Templars. But I will not allow another apprentice to fall to their cruelty. Please, let me help you. Let me help you beat this demon, and the templars who wish you dead." Well, talk about good luck._

_"Very well. My name is Selene, and you can come with me. What do you know of this place?"_

_Mouse appeared to lower his gaze in embarrassment. "Not very much, I'm afraid. I know what places to avoid, until you are ready. It will help you be prepared before you take on this demon."_

_Nodding her head, Selene set off, moving further down the path, Mouse shifted back to a rodent, skittering after her. A few more wisps appeared, and Selene decided to be creative, taking them out with a flurry of arcane bolts instead of her usual fire or electricity._

_Eventually, the path widened, and it split off to the side, leading into a wide, circular area surrounded by fire. The fires were arranged in an almost tribal pattern, like…like they were waiting for a sacrifice._

_She took a step forward, but as soon as she stepped towards that circle, a sinister feeling crawled up her spine, and the air shot up to ridiculous temperatures around her. This was where the demon waited._

_"The creature is contained in there. They bring it here, lure it with the promise of a meal, and then bind it to this place to wait for apprentices just like you." Mouse snarled from behind her. "You should wait. You are not ready to face that beast yet." Nodding in agreement, Selene retreated backwards, and the air temperature lowered back to within her comfort level._

_She and mouse set off, following the path as it moved up past the demon's lair. The ground leveled out again, and more wisps appeared, crackling with electricity. Selene's magic came to her at stunning speed, a shield erupting between her and the wisps. She felt their electrical attacks strike her barrier, and as soon as they ceased, she pulled the energy back towards her, creating a band of magic that swirled in the air around her torso._

_Grinning at the new challenge, she extended her arm, the energy rushing forward. Two of the wisps fell to the attack, and the remaining one unleashed another bolt of electricity. Redirecting the arcane energy, Selene pulled it back towards her to intercept the wisp's assault. It only just managed; the spells cancelled each other out, fizzling into nothing._

_Summoning more of her energy, she retaliated with a stream of fire, which engulfed the wisp, snuffing it out of existence. Selene, not even out of breath, felt a bit of sadness. This was one of the few chances she has to truly exercise her magic, truly test herself. While she prayed that she would succeed, it saddened her that this might be her only opportunity to fully exercise her abilities, especially with the extra power the Fade granted her._

_She and Mouse moved forward, until she spotted a very strange sight. At the top of an incline off to the left of the curving path they traveled upon, was a man. Only, it wasn't a man, was a spirit that looked like a man. He had his back to them, working in what seemed like a forge. Selene couldn't help but giggle at how ridiculous the forge looked in the middle of this barren, rocky area of the Fade._

_The spirit whirled to face her, its form shimmering as if trying to catch up with the movement. The 'man' was dressed in armor, his head hidden by a helmet. Glowing behind the eye sockets were glowing pits, shimmering even more intensely than the rest of his form. Its form. Oh, sprits confused her._

_"Another spirit. It never seemed to live up to its name." Mouse's voice rose up behind her, sounding oddly contemptuous, but she ignored him and continued forward. This didn't seem like a demon, and something about it intrigued her. As she moved in closer, the spirit spoke._

_"Another mortal thrown into the flames and left to burn, I see. Your mages have devised a cowardly test. Better to pit you against each other, to prove you mettle with skill, than to be sent unarmed against a demon." His words instantly brought up memories of her duel from almost a year ago. She had dueled against Talia Surana, another gifted apprentice, one of the only duels the templars had allowed in a long time._

_It had been quite the event, and it had felt good for Selene to finally vent her frustrations against the other mage. She and Talia had not gotten along in years, and were fierce rivals within the tower. The First Enchanter had felt that they needed to let off some steam against one another in a somewhat controlled setting, and had persuaded the Knight Commander to agree. It had been quite the test, pushing Selene to her limits, and ending in a draw._

_"Well, I already dueled someone, and I'm still here doing my Harrowing. What are you? Can you help me at all?" Selene, asked, eyeing the spirit curiously. She hoped that it could offer some kind of assistance._

_"I am Valor, and no I cannot help you. My purpose is not to assist you, but to seek perfection. That is why I forge the weapons, forever seeking perfection in the pursuit of Valor."_

_Selene raised a brow, waving an arm to the weapon racks surrounding the forge. "You craft these weapons?"_

_The spirit's form swirled as it replied. "Without a doubt. In this realm, everything that exists is the expression of a thought. Do you think these blades be steel? The staves be wood? Do you believe they draw blood? A weapon is but a single need for battle, and my will makes that need reality." It was similar to what the enchanters had taught her. The fade was a realm where your will could be made reality, and everything was only what you believed it to be._

_"Can I have one?" Selene asked. Valor simply narrowed his eyes at her. Well, time for some persuasion._

_Selene opened her mouth to convince the spirit, but Valor cut her off. "Do you truly desire one of my weapons? I shall give one to you..." Selene straightened, a smile lighting her face. That wasn't so hard. "...If you agree to duel me first. Valor shall test your mettle, as it should be tested." He nodded his head firmly, and Selene deflated._

_"Let me get my facts straight. You won't help me unless I fight you, most likely to the death?" The spirit nodded, seemingly happy with such a decision. Well that was a major letdown. She slumped in disappointment. She had really been hoping she could get some kind of help. Then, a thought occurred to her. "How do I know you aren't a demon?" She accused, staring at him with suspicion._

_Valor's whole form flared in rage. "**I am no demon!** How dare you accuse me of being some creature preying on the essence of mortals? I am a being of honor and Valor. I am a warrior!" He roared, a sword materializing in his hand._

_Selene crossed her arms over her chest. "Prove it." Valor seethed, before suddenly halting, and then he seemed to calm, the sword dissipating into nothing._

_"You are more intelligent than I thought. However insolent you may be, you have proven yourself a mortal of formidable will. You may able to resist tricks, but can you defeat a demon in battle?" The sword halfway rematerialized, a not so subtle question._

_She sighed sadly. At least if she lost to him, her body wouldn't get possessed and decapitated. "I guess we'll have to see." Selene raised her hands, unleashing a blast of fire. Valor reacted with deadly speed, a shield appearing and absorbing the blast, literally. The flames vanished into the shield, which glowed red-hot for only a moment. He rushed her, sword slashing for her throat. She ducked backwards, attempting to retreat away from him. Valor persisted, his sword slicing into her arm._

_Selene lashed out with a wave of force, pushing the spirit backwards and to the ground. Raising her hands, she unleashed a stream of electricity, aimed straight for his head. Before it could strike, Valor raised his shield, and it absorbed her spell again. Pulling himself off the ground, he stared at her, his whole form quivering in anticipation. Suddenly, without moving forward, he slashed his sword through the air in her direction. The seemingly pointless movement was actually a dangerous attack, for in the sword's wake traveled an arc of energy, which rushed towards Selene at deadly speed._

_Caught off guard, she quickly summoned a magical shield, but she didn't have enough time. The unfinished spell shattered under the assault, and she was thrown backwards, slamming into a nearby boulder. Selene gasped in pain, her back screaming from the impact. She only just managed to summon a shield to block Valor's sword. The blue wall of energy buckled under the force of the blow, but it held. Focusing, she pushed the energy outwards, knocking Valor backwards._

_Pulling herself to her feet, she let out an arcane bolt, which struck Valor in the chest. The spirit reeled backwards, and she fired off several blasts of fire. Valor weaved and ducked, his shield absorbing the attacks or simply dodging. He sent out another slash of energy, but this time she was prepared, blocking it with a wall of arcane power._

_The spirit rushed her again, but she pushed forward with her hands, a wave of force knocking him backwards. Before he could steady himself, she sent out another arcane bolt, and he was knocked to the ground. Now that the spirit was down, she began to charge up a large amount of electricity, aiming for a more powerful strike. In the Fade, it came much quicker, and she unleashed a large stream of energy._

_Valor raised his shield, which absorbed the electrical attack. Selene cried out in fury, astounded that he so quickly absorbed her spell. Strangely, the electricity did not disappear like her other attacks. It crackled around his shield, and then it began to move up his arm, across his shoulders, and down to his sword. He then raised the weapon, which hissed and snapped with electricity. She realized what had happened a second to late. He had redirected her spell and was now turning it against her. Her own bolt of lightning streaked through the air towards her, and the shield she desperately raised wasn't quite enough._

_The lightning slammed into her shield, blasting through it and hurling her backwards. She slid down the slope, her robes ripping along the stones. Her hair fell free of the bun she had tied it in when she awoke, falling around her face in a curtain of blonde waves. The spirit came down the hill, sword pointed for her chest. She sent out a blast of fire, but he simply stopped and absorbed it with his shield._

_She pulled herself off the ground, flinging her hair out of her eyes and retreating further away from the spirit. They stared each other down, until Valor moved forward again. Selene reacted with a bolt of electricity, which he redirected back her. This time, she was ready and easily blocked the weaker strike, then sending out a wave of telekinetic energy that sent the spirit reeling. She began to charge up more lightning, raising her hands to strike. Valor raised his shield, and she halted in her attack._

_Still crackling with electricity, she stared at the spirit. She could not contain all this energy for long, but she couldn't hit him while he had that shield. Then it came to her. He could shield himself, but not everything around him. Extending her arm, she released the lightning, sending it streaking forward. He raised his shield, but the lightning was not aimed at him._

_It slammed into the ground next to his feet, the explosion throwing him off his feet. He lost his grip on his shield and it went sliding down the slope towards the mage. She kicked it even further away from Valor, and then sent out another wave of force, sending him skidding across the ground. He slashed his sword wildly, another arc of energy lancing towards her head._

_She ducked under the strike, lashing out with another arcane bolt. The sprit rolled out of the way, and attempted to rise, but she sent him flying with a focused bolt of telekinetic energy. His sword flew out of his grasp, and fast as a snake, she lunged forward and scooped it off the ground._

_Darting forward, she slammed him to the ground and pressed the blade to his throat. "I win." She panted, grinning triumphantly at the spirit. He stared at her for a moment, before him and his sword dissolved into glowing blue energy, which swirled away from her and reappeared up by the forge, as if he had never moved._

_Still panting with exhaustion, she dragged her feet up the slope to the spirit. "You have proven your valor. You are a fine warrior, mortal. Here is one my weapons as a token of your victory." He extended an arm, and a staff on a nearby weapons rack disappeared, rematerializing in his outstretched hand._

_It was a simple thing, looking like nothing more than a long, oddly shaped branch. When she touched it however, she felt the power, felt her mana reaching out into the staff, and flowing back into her even more powerful. She had never held a true staff before, and it was very apparent that it truly was a focus for her magic, even here in the Fade._

_"Thank you, Valor. This will surely help me against this demon." She grinned at the spirit, but he shook his head._

_"Do not thank me, mortal. You may die yet." On that happy note, she turned away from Valor and moved down the slope, Mouse scurrying after her._

_They had only taken a few steps when a snarl ripped through the air. On the path ahead of her, a spirit appeared. The only problem was, it wasn't wisps this time. It was a huge wolf._

_It growled, translucent hackles rising. With an echoing howl, the spirit beast rushed forward, intent on tearing her throat out. The time to test the staff abruptly thrown on top of her, Selene whipped the magical weapon forward, pointing it straight at the wolf. A bolt of arcane energy streaked forward, striking the creature square in the face. It flipped over and backwards, crashing to the ground spread out on its back. Before the wolf could rise, she unleashed a surge of fire, which engulfed the spirit and snuffed it out of existence._

_"I sense something else up ahead. Another spirit of some kind. It's not the one hunting you, but still, be cautious." Now Mouse decides to notice spirits. She crept slowly up the rise ahead, staff snapping with electricity. Edging over the top of the rise, a gasp ripped free of Selene's lips. Sleeping on the ground ahead of her was a monstrous creature. It looked like it should be a bear, but it was horrible twisted, with huge spines jutting out of its form, huge tusks protruding from its maw, and its flesh rotting and grotesque._

_One of the beast's grey, rotting eyes opened, staring straight at her. "So you are the mortal being hunted. And the small one, is he to be a snack for me?" It spoke very slowly, as if it was only half-awake._

_Light flashed next to her, and Mouse reverted to a human form. "I don't like this. He isn't going to help us." With a groan, the beast rose to its huge, clawed feet. Selene retreated backwards a step, watching it warily._

_"No matter. The demon shall have you, eventually. Perhaps there will even be scraps left for me." It said hungrily, but still very slowly, as if the beast could hardly stay awake._

_"What manner of spirit are you?" Selene asked slowly. Mouse gave a snort next to her, gazing with contempt at the spirit._

_"It's a demon, one that could be more powerful than the one hunting you." The spirit- demon, she reminded herself- lowered itself to the ground, seemingly intent on going back to sleep._

_"Be gone. Surely, you have better things to do than bother Sloth, mortal. I tire of you already." Ah, so this was a demon of Sloth. As their name would dictate, Sloth demons were extremely slothful, lazy to the point of being almost none-threatening._

_"Sloth. That is what you are?" Obviously, this thing was here for a reason, and it was time to find out what it was._

_"Yes. I am Sloth, a creature of the Fade. Unlike yourself, mortal, I have other visitors, who'll serve their function. Only the mortals like yourself are truly annoying."_

_Selene raised a brow. "Mortals like myself?" Sloth yawned, before continuing._

_"Yes. Many mortals dream. They come here often." He yawned. "You are not one of those. You are aware. A mortal with power, and will. The sort that some spirits hunger for. I might be inclined for such a meal, myself. It would be interesting to see the realm of mortals through your eyes, live in your form. But I am disinclined to begin such a struggle." Sloth yawned again resting his head on his spiked paws._

_"Oh, lucky me." Selene gave a nervous chuckle._

_The creature glared at her. "Indeed. Now, what is you want of me."_

_"Well, I could use some help defeating a demon." Selene said, waiting to see the demon's reaction._

_One grey eye opened again, looking her over. "You have that very nice staff. You seem to have everything you need. Go, and be valorous. You don't need me."_

_"He seems powerful." Mouse said, strangely sounding almost hungry. "Perhaps he can teach you to be like him."_

_His open eye swiveled to Mouse, narrowing in annoyance. "Like me? You expect me to teach the mortal my form? She is too attached to her shape to take this one."_

_"Well, Mouse here can change his shape. Perhaps you could show him yours." The other eye opened, and Sloth stared at her with more interest._

_"You are a smart one. Yes, this one gave up his attachment to the human form long ago. He would be a capable pupil." The demon said slowly, looking closely at the two of them with its dead eyes._

_"I don't think I would make a good bear. How would I hide?" Mouse asked, a tremor in his voice._

_Selene turned to face him. "You can't hide forever Mouse. With this form, you might be able to stand up for yourself in this realm."_

_"That is true. I am quite powerful in this form, when I wish to be." Sloth said with yawn, now returning to almost boredom._

_"I welcome the opportunity, if it is my choice. The mages in the tower are quick to volunteer others, as you well know. I will try. I will try to become a bear, if you'll teach me." Mouse sounded almost defeated, his shoulders slumping as looked intently at the demon._

_"That's nice. But teaching is so exhausting. Away with you now." Sloth closed his eyes, settling back to slumber._

_Selene's eyes widened. "Wait! Mouse wants to learn, you have to teach him. You can't just go back to sleep!" Sloth opened both eyes, gazing at her in annoyance._

_"You wish to learn my form, little one? Then I have a challenge for your friend. Answer three riddles correctly, and I will teach you. If you answer wrong, I shall devour you both. The decision is yours." He gazed at her expectantly, waiting for a reply._

_Well, that came as no surprise. The demon will give her what she wants, but with a price. "You expect me to make a deal with a demon? I'm not a fool."_

_Sloth stared at her, the interest slowly fading away the longer they talked. "I do not seek to trick you, only present a simple challenge. My terms a very clear."_

_Perhaps the demon was telling the truth. It seemed too bored to be a threat, and she was very good at riddles. "Fine. Give me your riddles, Sloth."_

_The demon perked up, a bit of hunger entering its rotting eyes. "Truly? This gets more and more promising. My first riddle is this:_

_"I have seas with no water, coasts with no sand. I have towns with no people, mountains without land. What am I?" That was a tricky one. Desert came to mind, but that wasn't it. Oh, she had it._

_"A map." Selene said hopefully._

_Sloth narrowed his eyes. "Yes, that is correct. My next riddle: I am rarely touched, but often held. If you have wit, you'll use me well. What am I?"_

_Rarely touched but often held. Something that is used well with wit... She thought hard for several moments before she answered. "My tongue."_

_Sloth snorted. "Yes, your witty, witty tongue. My final riddle: I often spin a tale, but rarely charge a fee. I'll amuse for an entire eve, but alas, you won't remember me. What am I?"_

_This was the hardest one. It'll amuse you for an eve, but you won't remember it. "A dream." Sloth growled in anger._

_"Yes, you are right. Fine, I shall teach my form to the little one. Listen closely." He rose to his feet, and set about explaining to Mouse how to assume the shape of the monstrous bear. Finally, he snapped for Mouse to attempt it._

_Light flashed, and where a human had been standing, there was now a large bear. A normal bear. "Is this right?" Mouse asked tentatively._

_Selene pursed her lips. "Well, it's a bear, so it's close enough. Thank you, Sloth, but now its time for us to go."_

_"Good riddance. Now I think its time for a rest." Sloth lowered himself to the ground, closing his rotting eyes and returning to sleep. Turning on her heel, Selene steeled herself. She had a staff, she had a strong companion, and she had her own will and power. It was time to face the creature._

_Moving down through the sharp, twisted trees down the slope, she and Mouse quickly eliminated a pack of spirit wolves. Curving back from where she had came, they finally reached the circular, smoking area where the demon was supposed to reside._

_As if on cue, a pool of fire and molten rock appeared on the far end of the area, and a figure rose from it. It was a being of pure liquid fire, its shape hominoid only in the vaguest sense. Glowing pits of fire glowed white hot from its long, deformed face. Mouse's voice rose up behind her._

_"There is a spirit of Rage." Hands trembling, she slowly moved forward, and the creature began quivering in anticipation. Its voice rose to greet her, deep and echoing in a way that was clearly and sinisterly inhuman._

_"And so it comes to me at last. Soon I shall see the land of the living through your eyes, creature. You shall be **mine**, body and soul." Shoving back her fear, she tried her first tactic to turn this creature away from her._

_"Even if you were to succeed, the Templars would cut you down before you could see anything of worth." The spirit laughed, swelling with glee._

_"They are welcome to try!" It turned to look at Mouse, speaking hungrily to him. "So, this is creature is your offering, Mouse. Another plaything as per are arrangement." What? Selene whipped around to face Mouse, and the lying traitor had his face hidden behind his hands. Voice trembling, he replied to the demon's statement._

_"I'm no offering you anything! I don't have to help you anymore." The demon cackled happily, its form rippling in amusement._

_"Oh? And after all the wonderful meals we have shared? Now suddenly the mouse has changed the rules." It laughed again, its deep, menacing voice sending chills straight down her spine._

_"I'm not a mouse now, and soon I won't have to hide. I don't need to bargain with you." The demon's laughter ceased, and it leaned forward, hands curling into claws._

_"We shall see..." With stunning speed, the demon surged forward, flaming hands outstretched. Selene retreated backwards, but tripped over the end of her ripped robe. Crashing to the ground, she looked up as the rage demon lunged for her. Just as it was to reach her, a huge paw slammed into its flaming chest, sending the creature flailing backwards._

_Mouse, in his bear shape, charged the demon, slashing at it with his claws. Its fiery form burned at his paws, but still he attacked, forcing the demon away from her. The demon roared in fury, its form welling up as it swatted at his massive shoulders. Mouse howled in pain as his fur and skin burned, and the demon cackled in glee. Recovering from her shock and fear, Selene lashed out with a bolt of arcane energy._

_The spell struck the demon, and it roared in anger, turning to face her. It waved one of its hands, and suddenly all around the perimeter of the clearing, wisps appeared, crackling with energy. Several of them unleashed bolts of electricity, which struck Mouse and allowed the demon to begin to get the upper hand, each blow burning Mouse painfully and forcing him backwards._

_Desperate, Selene turned her attention to the wisps. A barrage of arcane bolts, jets of flame and bolts of electricity felling each of them. The last two simultaneously unleashed electrical strikes, one getting through her defenses and sending her reeling in pain. A pair of arcane bolts took them out. Finally, she wheeled about to face the demon. Mouse had been pushed far away from her, and the demon seemed relatively unfazed._

_Raising its hands, the rage demon unleashed a fireball, which slammed into Mouse's chest and hurled him backwards, leaving him crumpled and a smoking heap. The demon attempted to move in to finish him, but Selene released a fireball of her own. It slammed into the back of the demon's head, or at least what was supposed to be a head. Completely unharmed, the demon turned to face her._

_Obviously, this thing was immune to fire. It laughed again and shot out a jet of flame, which soared towards her head. Ducking under the assault, she let tendrils of electricity shoot from her fingertips, snaking all along the demon's form. It grunted in pain, but was barely slowed by the assault, lashing out with its burning hands. She retreated backwards, a surge of force shoving the demon backwards._

_Selene didn't know what to do. This demon was immune to fire, and it resisted her electrical attacks. If she could get a good lightning bolt out, maybe she could hurt it badly enough, but that required a lot of energy, along with time to charge up that she didn't have. An arcane bolt pushed the demon away from her, and she lashed out with another electricity spell. The demon cackled madly. "You can't hold me back forever, mortal. Soon, you shall be my doorway to the physical realm."_

_She retreated away from the demon, but it continued after her, laughing all the while. Just as she was getting to her wits end, it came to her. This thing was immune to fire, but how about its opposite. Raising her hands, she focused her mind, releasing a jet of icy cold frost magic. It slammed into the demon's chest, and it howled in pain, reeling backwards as ice blossomed across its form._

_Now knowing the demon's weakness, she lashed out with every ice spell in her arsenal...which was about one. Ice was not her specialty, so mostly she just sent out streams of frost repeatedly. The demon was screaming in pain and fury, as its body was slowly encased in ice. It struggled to melt the frigid covering, but her magic was powerful enough to hold against the heat it generated. Finally, with one final howl, the demon was fully covered._

_She knew it wouldn't stay frozen for long, so she set about summoning the spell that would finish this fight. She began to move her hands in circular patterns around her body, fingers trailing electricity. In the Fade, magic came faster, but she also had a greater capacity for mana output, so she could make this lightning bolt extremely powerful._

_The electricity built in the air around her, the tendrils growing in strength the more she weaved the patterns of energy with her hands. Finally she tensed, the power reaching its peak. The demon snarled, its head melting free of its icy prison. It saw what was coming, and screamed in appropriate rage. Allowing herself a smile of triumph, Selene extended her arm, releasing the energy._

_A massive bolt of lightning raced forward, slamming into the demon's chest. Not even having time to give a final cry of pain, the demon exploded into thousands of icy chunks, which quickly melted and evaporated into nothing. Gasping at the loss of energy, Selene realized what she had just done. She had defeated a demon._

_She had passed her Harrowing._

_Selene beamed in victory, barely noticing her exhaustion after that last spell. She turned to Mouse with a grin, but he still was crumpled on the ground. "Mouse!" She rushed forward, gathering the last of her strength. She reached him, the gentle blue light of a healing spell lighting her fingers. She reached out, finding the burns with her magic and quickly repairing the damaged skin and tissue._

_After a few moments, he rose, turning back to his human shape. "You did it, Selene. You actually did it! When you first came, I hoped that maybe you would be able to...but I never really thought any of you were worthy." Selene tensed, backing away from the spirit who had been helping her. In the heat of her battle, she had almost forgotten that the demon and Mouse had been working together, preying on innocent apprentices._

_"You mean the apprentices that came before me. Did you even know their names, or were they just meals to you?" She couldn't help the fury that entered her voice. Mouse had become no better than the demons. He shook his head, raising his hands to placate her._

_"You don't understand. The others weren't like you! The templars set them up to fail, just like they tried with you, and there was nothing I could do to help them."_

_Selene scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "That is a lie. Why would this test exist if they wanted us to fail?"_

_Mouse scoffed in return, gazing at her as if she were a child. "You are so naive! The templars don't want to test you, they want to kill you! Just like they killed **me**!" He yelled, face reddening, before he seemed to calm, voice softening. "You are different they others. You are a true mage, one of the few. Look at what you did. You secured the help of two spirits, and defeated the demon yourself. You have the potential to be so much more." Selene narrowed her eyes, suspicion crawling up her spine. Mouse had done nothing but butter her up, and belittle the other mages he had helped kill. He was playing her own pride in her accomplishment, seemingly trying to convince her that she was some unstoppable force of power._

_"So what is it you want me to do now, Mouse?" Her voice was careful, guarded. Nevertheless, he brightened, giving her a small smile._

_"You defeated a demon! With time, you shall be a master Enchanter with no equal. And maybe there is a place in that for someone as small and forgotten as me." A chill crawled through her blood, draining her face of color. "You can help me. It may be possible for me to leave this horrible place, find a home in your world in your world. All you have to do is let me in."_

_"The rage demon wasn't my real test, was it?" Selene backed away from Mouse, realization hitting her like a punch to the gut. He was no forgotten spirit, no lost soul. He was a demon, one far more dangerous than the one she had just battled._

_"What? Of course it was! What else could threaten an apprentice of your-" He paused, shaking his head in defeat. "You are a smart one." A sinister smirk curved across his face, and when his spoke again, his voice was different, even lower and more sinister than the rage demons had been._

_"Killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the Fade are preconceptions. Careless trust...pride." Light swirled around him, and he swelled to massive proportions, becoming a gigantic violet creature, heavily armed and armored, with thick spiny skin and huge claws._

_Selene stumbled backwards, trying to ready herself for a fight. But she would loose. There was no way she could defeat something of this magnitude, a Pride demon. However, it seemed a fight was not inevitable._

_"Keep your wits about you, mage. True tests never end." Strangely, the demon of Pride vanished, and then everything faded to blackness._

* * *

**A/N:** Well, if you are reading this, I would like to thank you for reading chapter one. It means a lot to me that you would take time out of your day (or night) to read my work, and I hope you enjoyed it. If you have any questions, or advice, or constructive criticism, I will reply as soon as I can. Chapter two will be up soon, so be ready!


	2. Escape

**A****/N: **This story takes place before my primary Origins story, and introduces the major characters. I made this a separate story for a few reasons, the first of which being that I had already typed them up before I realized that I really didn't want them as a part of my main story. The reason I didn't want them in story is because these first few chapters disrupted the flow of the story I had in mind, and I thought that if they were a part of it I would have to change how I wanted it written. But, I already had started and put a descent amount of work into these first few chapters, so I just thought I'll upload them as a short story consisting of the character's origin stories.

**Warning: **This story is rated T for slightly violent scenes of action and language.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything of the Dragon Age universe. This was created purely for fans by a fan. Read and enjoy!

**Gathering Heroes**

**Chapter Two: Escape**

_An apostate is a mage who is not part of the Circle of Magi. There are two types of apostates: hedge mages, who were never part of the Circle, and rogue mages, who have fled from the Circle. The Templar Order is charged with finding apostates and either capturing or killing them._

* * *

When Selene finally awoke, she was in her bunk in the apprentice quarters. With a groan, she lifted a hand to her throbbing temple, reaching for a bit of healing magic. However, magic requires concentration, and that is hard to come by when you just woke up and have a splitting headache. Her foolish attempt at healing caused a mental whiplash about as fun as getting punched in the face. Groaning in pain and irritation, she pulled herself into a sitting position and looked around.

There were no apprentices in the wide room, indicating it was well into the day. She can only remember bits and pieces of her time after completing her Harrowing. Flashes of Cullen standing over, sword at the ready, and the heart-warming expression of immense relief that spread across his face, before everything faded to black. Glimpses of her being carried down the halls of the tower, the faint hush of voices murmuring around her, but that was about it.

Rising slowly from her bunk, Selene maneuvered over towards the vanity area and gauged her appearance. Her blonde waves hung in a limp, tangled mess, and her face was looking very pale. There were dark, bruise-like bags under her eyes, which looked a little more washed out than their usual blue.

In short, she looked pretty terrible. She headed back towards her bunk, opening the chest at its end. Reaching inside, she grabbed her spare robe and a few personal items. Moving back to the vanity, she quickly changed her robe and settling down in the seat in front of the large mirror. She was in the middle of tying her hair back into a somewhat neat bun when a familiar voice floated into the room.

"Well, looks like Princess passed her Harrowing. I figured you were a goner. Heard that templar lover of yours was going to be the one to lop off your head." Gritting her teeth, she slowly turned to face the speaker, already wishing she hadn't bothered to wake up.

Talia Surana leaned against the entryway, looking as obnoxiously well-kept as she always did. Her face was as smoothly white as fresh snow, and her thick midnight hair was draped over one shoulder, not a single strand was out of place. Her golden mage robes were neat and clean, and she had sown them so that they looked more like a dress than a robe, and some filched earrings glittered out from one of her pointed ears.

Selene felt that familiar urge to punch Talia straight in the face. However, being the mature person she was, she simply sighed and tried to ignore her. She was put in the only pair of earrings she owned, a gift from Enchanter Wynne several years ago, when Talia appeared in the mirror.

A mocking smirk spread across Talia's face as those unnerving silver eyes took in Selene's appearance. "Well, looks like someone didn't sleep to well. I wouldn't have that problem, since I passed my Harrowing months ago, and I get a room all to myself." She grinned, relishing in the fact that she had something that Selene didn't.

"What do you want Talia?" She snapped, glaring at the other woman.

Talia sneered, tilting her head sideways. "No need for the attitude, Princess. I'm just trying to talk with my _favorite_ mage." She stressed the word with her special mix of sarcasm and venom, face returning to a smirk. "So, how long did it take you? Mine was in record time. But don't worry, not everyone is a winner. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Gathering her belongings, Selene rose to her feet, moving past the elf without a second glance. Brushing her off was always what irritated Talia the most. Sure enough, Selene heard footsteps following her out of the vanity area.

"Well, don't be secretive, Princess, how well did you do?" Selene, back still to Talia, threw her belongings into her trunk and slammed the lid. Today, Talia's incessant mocking and manipulations wouldn't be getting the best of her.

"As much as I would love to talk to you, Talia, I have more important things to do." She snapped, turning about and trying to head for the door. The elf maneuvered into her path, blocking her way to the door.

Talia sneered again, not willing to let the conversation drop. "What could possibly you have to do? You have a free day after passing your Harrowing. We can finally hang out together, _friend_." Talia's sneer was an odd one, as the normally ugly expression somehow didn't detract from her beauty. She had probably practiced it in the mirror for hours.

"Selene! Thank the Maker your awake. The First Enchanter wants to see you." Looking over Talia's shoulder, Selene saw her friend Jowan standing in the doorway, beaming at her. She smiled and began to more towards him, but Talia didn't appear to be finished yet.

"Oh Jowan!" She practically sang. "Don't forget about our little practice session later. You need to work on your fire spells." Selene whipped around, staring incredulously at Talia. "What? Jowan didn't tell you that we are practice buddies?" She smirked, and Selene turned to look at Jowan. There was no way he would be training with Talia, it couldn't be.

For one, Talia would never train with someone with less magical skill than her. That being said, as much as she cared for Jowan, he was so far below Talia on the magical scale it approached being pitiful. Talia was, along with Selene herself, one of the most skilled mages in the tower, outside of the Enchanters. For two, Jowan always expressed his hatred for Talia, and he wouldn't lie to her. She was his best friend after all.

At her incredulous look, Jowan glared at her and got unusually snippy. "What? Not everything in my life revolves around you!" Turning on his heel, Jowan stormed away from her, leaving her alone with Talia.

"Oops. Sorry about that one, Princess. I didn't mean to cause trouble. Have fun with the First Enchanter, _friend_." The elf breezed past her with a parting smirk, drifting away down the hall. Selene was left stunned. Jowan was prone to his fits, but she didn't understand why he would get so defensive. It was very out of character for him.

Shaking her head, she moved down the circular hall, heading up towards the First Enchanter's office.

* * *

Selene emerged from the bath feeling happy to be clean and refreshed. She had met with the First Enchanter, and he had given her new robes, her mage signet ring, and her first real staff. She had also met a stranger to the tower: a Grey Warden named Duncan, who she had escorted to the guest quarters. The two of them had discussed darkspawn and Blights, ancient things she had read about in texts in the library.

She had then moved down to the baths, and now was clean and refreshed. Dressed in her new and very golden robes, she left her hair hanging free and decided to head for the library. This talk of darkspawn had gotten her excited to refresh her knowledge of the forgotten horrors.

Reaching the library, she moved through the towering bookshelves, heading for the history section. Thumbing through the various volumes, she finally managed to find _History of the Blights_ by Brother Jenetivi. She was hardly surprised at a book by Jenetivi. Half of this library was written by him; the guy was a genius.

Pulling that over to a nearby table, she opened it up to a passage on the first Blight. It spoke of the darkspawn finding the Old God Dumat, an ancient draconic deity of the Imperium, said to have taught blood magic to the first Archon.

It told of how he was corrupted by the darkspawn taint, and rose as the first Archdemon. Curious about what an Archdemon's role was specifically, she headed towards the section of the library centered on the various creatures of Thedas. Searching through several volumes, she finally found _Darkspawn and Other Blight Creatures_, again by Brother Genetivi.

Taking it back to the table with the other volume, she began thumbing through it, actually learning some new things. For starters, she learned that there were various kinds of darkspawn, each suited for different roles in combat. There were the genlocks and hurlocks, the basic foot soldiers. Then there were the two more specialized breeds, the shrieks and the ogres. Shrieks were stealthy assassins, sneaking behind enemy lines, while ogres where monstrous juggernauts, crashing straight through all in their path.

She also read that without an Archdemon, the darkspawn were disorganized and relatively ineffective, as they were incapable of complex thought and strategy. With an Archdemon, however, they were a near unstoppable army, fearless of death and wickedly intelligent, capable of cunning strategies with no regard for safety. These traits helped them tremendously in their lust to destroy everything around them.

She read for some time, before deciding to head up to the practice area and work on her ice spells. She replaced the tomes, and grabbed one on the spell forms she would be practicing. Informing the library Tranquil that she was checking it out, she heading out of the library and up the stairs.

The Circle's practice area was one of the tower's largest rooms, along with the Great Hall, the Templar's Chamber, and the top floor antechamber. It was a large, open area, almost an entire floor of its own, and one of the few rooms possessing multiple large windows. Of course they were only there so the mages could fire certain spells safely outside, and were heavily guarded.

Selene found it a bit foolish that it was considered necessary to post half a dozen templars by the windows. After all, they were on the tower's sixth floor, on the side of the tower facing straight out into the lake, and the only thing below them was sharp cliffs and freezing water.

Nevertheless, that was what the templars considered necessary, and so it that was how it would stay. Moving over to one of the nearby by podiums, she placed the book down and opened it up to the proper page. She was going to practice Cone of Cold, a more advanced version of a basic frost spell, formally called Winter's Grasp. There are four main, formally named ice spells, with Blizzard being the most powerful and advanced. However, those properly attuned to ice often can become very creative with their spells.

Unfortunately, fire is her primary element, so Selene will have to stick to the more formal spells. After Winter's Grasp, the next step was Cone of Cold, so she set to work.

Selene spent the next half an hour trying and failing to get the spell right. The cone either sprayed widely and ineffectively, or only went straight for a few minutes before she lost focus of it.

It was intensely frustrating. She had never, ever, had this much trouble generating a spell in her life. She had always been a quick learner, able to pick up almost any spell she wanted to. Ice, however, was the only things she ever had actual trouble with. She had little talent for entropy spells, but that was more likely because of a lack of interest than actual difficulty.

The Harrowing hadn't helped. In the Fade, magic came far more quickly and easily, and she was capable of far more advanced spells than she was capable of in the physical world. It was a taste of what, with proper study and practice, was in store for her. It had only made her want to learn faster, so that she could achieve that level of skill.

"You seem to be having a bit of trouble. It's Selene, if I recall correctly." Completely startled, Selene whipped around to see the Grey Warden, Duncan, leaning on a wall, watching her. Selene gave him a shrug.

"Yes, I am. Ice has never been my specialty. You're Duncan, right?" She asked, and the grizzled man nodded, giving her a small smile.

"You are correct. I know how hard it is to master a form that you just don't seem meant for." He said, using the same voice that her tutors did.

"Thank you! I swear, everyone who is non-magical that I have talked to always thinks it's just waving a hand then BAM! Magic happens. Granted, I haven't met a lot, but still, you're the first." She beamed at him. Duncan had just one himself a few points in her book. Cullen, however sweet he may be, always drove her up the wall with his ignorance to the more mechanical aspects of magic. "What brings you all the way up here?"

"Well, this seemed like the best place to see the mages practice their skills. As I said earlier, I am looking for recruits. Forgive me; I will leave you to your practice." He began to move away, but Selene spoke up, causing him to turn back.

"Oh, it's no problem. I was just about done anyway. I can't seem to get this spell right." At that statement, Duncan quirked one of his bushy brows at her.

"Well that's no reason to give up. You can't master anything without practice." He crossed his arms, giving her that same disappointed look that Irving used.

Smiling, Selene crossed her arms as well. "Well, Ser Warden, you don't know me that well. I'll have you know that I have learned almost every spell I know with hardly any practice. Some without any at all." That got his attention.

"Truly? Well, I apologize for the underestimation, my lady." Selene started, staring at him for several moments. _My lady?_ She felt an uncomfortable feeling crawling its way up her spine, a barrage of memories flashing through her mind. Memories of servants brushing and braiding her hair, cooks placing her favorite meal in front of her, the templar that took her from her home-

**_NO!_**

She wouldn't allow those thoughts to resurface. Shoving the memories back to the far recesses of her mind, she brushed past Duncan, ignoring the thoughtful look he gave her. Reaching up to brush away a stray tear, she decided to head back down to the library. After all, a good story always reading always managed to cheer her up.

* * *

Selene rushed down the hall, twisting her hands in despair. She had been on her way to the library, when Jowan had appeared, telling her he needed to talk to her. He had looked so frightened, so she immediately listened, ignoring his little fit from earlier in the day. He had led her to the chapel, and introduced her to Lily.

It turned out that Lily had been the girl he had been raving about for almost a year. It also turned out that she was a Chantry initiate, and their romance was strictly forbidden. Now, Selene's relationship wasn't exactly looked upon with happiness, but it wasn't specifically forbidden. If they were discovered, they could get in enormous amounts of trouble.

They had said that Lily had seen had seen papers approving Jowan for the Right of Tranquility. Jowan was terrified, saying they were accusing him of blood magic, and the two had cooked up a plan to escape the tower, asking for Selene's help. She had been so stunned and torn that she had simply ran, putting her where she was now.

Jowan was her best friend in the world, and she would do anything for him, but to help him escape? Mages **always** got caught. Anders had escaped times beyond counting, and yet he was always brought back, to severe consequences. The past two times, Karl had begged her to try to and get Irving to make the templar's go easy, but even so, that wouldn't work forever.

He was always caught, as was every other mage she had seen escape. Jowan was far less skilled than Anders, and would never get far. The fact that he was courting a Chantry initiate, was suspected of blood magic, and had destroyed his phylactery, would spell immediate execution.

She had to do something, but she couldn't risk him getting hurt. _What do I do?_ She was so caught up in her thoughts that she ran right into someone. Someone wearing very heavy, very _hard_ metal armor.

Grunting in pain, she stumbled backwards, and raised a hand to her nose, which had taken the brunt of the impact. A familiar voice sounded, filled with worry and embarrassment. "Oh Maker, I'm sorry. Are you alright?" She looked up to see Cullen staring at her, eyes wide and concerned. A smile tugged at her lips, and for a moment she forgot about her inner turmoil.

"I'm fine Cullen, and don't apologize. I wasn't watching where I was going." She gave a little laugh at how red his face was, and how he seemed a few seconds from beginning to sweat heavily. It was completely adorable.

"O-oh, that's g-good." He stuttered out, twisting his hands anxiously, looking anywhere but at her face.

"Cullen, you don't have to be so nervous. I'm not going to bite you." She said with a chuckle. She loved how flustered he got around her, even after how long they had known each other.

His eyes widened. "Oh no, I d-don't think that, Selene. You're too wonderful to do that." When he realized what he said, his face somehow turned even redder, and Selene smothered a giggle.

"Why, thank you Cullen. How are you today?" She asked, raising a hand to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes. Cullen's eyes followed the movement, and he swallowed thickly.

"W-w-well, just g-guarding. S-same old s-s-same old." Her lips pulled into another grin. She could watch him stutter and stammer all day. One of his charms. Then, like a cloud rolling in, she remembered what had been causing her turmoil.

She had to get away, had to solve this problem with Jowan. "I'm sorry Cullen, but I have to go." She grimaced internally at the way her voice lowered in sadness, and the way Cullen picked up on it instantly.

"Selene, is something wrong?" He stepped in close, his big hazel eyes meeting hers with concern.

"No, no, of course not. Everything is alright." It was a lie, and a bad one at that. Cullen may stutter and stammer if she so much as smiled at him, but he was not fool.

He reached out, as if to grab her hand reassuringly, and then changed his mind, lowering his hand back to his side. "You can talk to me Selene." Oh, she knew that, but this was not something to she could discuss with him.

"See you around, Cullen." She moved past him, trying to forget the look of longing she saw on his face as she brushed past him. Maker, she was starting to make a habit of abruptly ending conversations.

She moved through the halls, and her feet led her to the library. Walking to a far corner, she sunk into one of the chairs, dropping her head into her hands. What was she going to do? Reaching up a hand, she pressed her fingers to her necklace, gently gripping the small amulet. _Oh Mother, I don't know what to do..._

Jowan wished to escape, and would probably do with or without her help. Even if he managed to get out of the tower, he would still be caught, if Anders was any evidence. Even now he was still locked in the dungeons, only a third of the way through his year in solitude. Jowan, however, was thought to be dabbling in blood magic. If he tried to escape, he would be put to death, or made Tranquil.

Selene sat in the library for almost half an hour, trying to figure out what to do. Finally, she made a decision. Rising from her seat, she headed out of the library and towards the stairs. She only hoped Jowan could forgive her for what she must do.

* * *

Selene, Jowan, and Lily moved slowly through the basement. They had waited until dinner, when almost everyone would be in the Great Hall, and had waited till the change of the guard before quietly slipping through the basement door. Selene, despite the measures she had taken, was still very nervous. What if there were dangerous things down here, and Jowan or Lily got hurt? Her inner troubles were quickly put to rest as the rounded a corner.

Leaning against a wall, standing right by the door they must go through, was Talia. Her lips were pulled into her trademark smirk, and she had changed into her apprentice robes, which were also sown into a more gown-like form. "Took you long enough Jowan." She quipped.

Selene whirled on Jowan, utterly confused. "What is she doing here?" Jowan's eyes widened, and he flicked his gaze back and forth from Selene to Talia nervously, mouth hanging open.

Talia's voice floated over her shoulder, completely smug. "Oh, little Jowie didn't tell you I was going to help? I thought you two were close."

Selene turned back to glare at her. "You don't help people, Talia, you use them. What is it you're getting out of helping them?" She snapped, but Talia only grinned at her.

"Oh, I wouldn't miss an opportunity to break some rules like this! Besides, I wouldn't want Jowie here to be made Tranquil. We're best buds." She smiled mockingly, fluttering her eyes. Spinning around, Selene gripped Jowan's arm and pulled him away from the snotty elf.

"Jowan, what is going on with you lately? First, you're apparently training with her, and now you're having her help you find your phylactery, and throughout all of this you didn't tell me anything! I tell you everything!" Jowan's nervous fear turned to anger, and he stood tall, utilizing his superior height to look down his nose at her.

"What makes you think you get to know everything there is to know about me? I didn't ask you to tell me all the things that you say. I know you were a noble, but not everybody cares about what's going on in your life, and not everything is your business!" Selene drew back as if he had slapped her across the face. Jowan's face fell, and he reached out a hand. "I'm sorry, Selene, I didn't mean-"

She pulled back, face hardening. "Let's just get this over with." What was the matter with him lately? Talia seemed to be rubbing off on him, because Jowan had never treated her like this. She moved past Talia, ignoring her smug smirk. She approached the door, but when she reached out a hand to open it, she noticed something odd.

The door had no handle.

Not even anything close to a handle. Talia snorted behind her. "Wow, Princess. Did you really think they would just leave it open for anyone?" She moved forward, pushing Selene aside.

"Initiate, come here." Talia called imperiously over her shoulder, causing Lily slowly to move forward. "Today would be wonderful." Talia snapped, turning to glare at her. Lily glanced back at Jowan, but he decided that was a wonderful time to be his normal, meek self. Selene couldn't help but simmer internally. Maker, with his new attitude, if she would have talked to Lily that, he would be throwing fire at her. _But no, he's all buddy-buddy with **her** now. _Her silent fury was calmed slightly by curiosity.

Lily, as if blessing someone, raised a hand and said something that Selene missed, and then Talia raised a hand crackling with arcane energy. The minute she touched the door, it flew open, revealing a long, wider hallway leading to another door, this one quite a bit larger. Had Jowan not made her angry, she might have asked how they did that, but as she was **very** angry, she simply moved forward silently.

This whole situation was driving her insane. Why was all this happening? Why was Jowan treating her so badly, why were the Templar's suspecting him, just **why**? Why couldn't things just be the way they were, with her and Jowan both practicing their magic, joking about Ander's latest escape attempts, and poking at her relationship with Cullen? Well, her somewhat relationship with Cullen. She wasn't sure if she was in love with him, and ready to run away together. However, she was sure that he made her smile, and that she was always happier when she was around him. What would he think of this? Would he be angry with her, turn away from her like it seemed Jowan was?

However, she had to put that out of her mind, for now they were faced with a door, one that actually had a handle. Unfortunately, it also had a massive lock to make sure it stayed closed. By Andraste, this was a headache in the making. At least she had managed to forget her fear and worry.

"Talia, did you get a rod of fire?" Jowan asked from the other side of the hall. Selene refused to look at him, instead looking at Talia.

The elf gave a slow, theatrical turn, one thin brow raised. In a mocking voice, she cooed "Did you really think we would need a rod of fire? Jowie, I'm hurt." With a smile, Talia whipped around, snapping her arm up and extending to fingers.

Nothing happened.

Talia looked down at her hand, and then extended her arm again, and again nothing happened. Talia stared at her hands, suddenly breathing very rapidly. Talia let out a sound dangerously close to a snarl and whipped around to glare at Lily. "What is going on? Why isn't my magic working?" She screeched, advancing on the initiate, hands curled into claws. Lily backpedaled, raising her hands appealingly.

"I don't know, I swear!" Jowan moved forward, also raising his hands to calm the seething elf. Selene ignored their next few words, instead staring at the door. When she reached out with her mind, she could still feel her mana, and she raised a hand. Electricity crackled across her fingers, and she let loose a stream of energy. The bolt of electricity flew through the air, and just as it got within three feet of the door, it fizzled out.

The argument a few feet away died down, and they all looked at Selene. "It's not Lily's fault, so you can leave her alone. This door obviously cancels out magic, and since we don't have a key, we'll have go through the other door and circle around." Talia quickly regained her composure, shooting a passing glare at Lily.

She turned and moved off down the hall to the right of the impassable door, reaching another large locked door. This time, however, her magic wasn't useless. Talia raised her hands, and summoned two balls of fire. It was her trademark fire, a brilliant blue white, unique within the tower. Any mage can change the color or intensity of their fire, but it requires extra concentration and a bit more energy. Talia, however, conjures bright blue flames of above-average heat and intensity automatically, with no extra concentration. It always irritated her how Talia effortlessly created flames that were, along with being Selene's favorite color, naturally hotter than her own fire.

With a small laugh, Talia snapped her hands forward, releasing a swirling blue fireball. The spell slammed into the door and quickly blew it off of its hinges, sending it crashing to the ground with a resounding bang. Talia turned back to smirk at them before moving through the now open door way.

They all moved forward, moving down the long stone halls. As they moved, they passed a pair of stone statues. Statues that quickly came to life. Selene was not proud of the undignified yelp that slipped out of her mouth, as the statues fell in on her and Talia.

Her elven rival reacted with admirable speed, ducking under one of the statues attacks with a mace. Backing up a few steps, she raised her hands and let out a blast of fire, blowing the statue backwards. Selene moved sideways, the statue's blow striking her shoulder. She let out a cry of pain, and lashed out with a wave of force.

The statues were, if she remembered correctly, objects known as Sentinels, statues infused with magic to act as guardians. The Sentinel rushed her again, swinging a stone sword for her head. She concentrated, erecting a barrier of energy between herself and the statue. Its sword slammed into her shield, and the Sentinel began bashing itself against the barrier again and again mindlessly.

She began to feel a strain, as each blow against the barrier had to be absorbed, requiring more energy. Focusing her mind, she pushed outward with the barrier, pushing the Sentinel backwards. While it tried to regain balance, she raised her hands and let out a blast of electricity. The statue fell backwards, crashing to the ground and smashing to pieces.

She looked around just as Talia finished off her statue another fire blast, hurling it into the wall and shattering it. With the small battle over, Selene summoned some healing magic, raising a hand to her aching shoulder, soothing the throbbing pain.

They moved through the halls, eliminating a few more Sentinels, until the hall split into two different paths, one left and one right. Talia spoke up then. "The Repository is that way," She gestured to the left. "But I have something I need down here." With a smile, she moved down the right hall. Selene narrowed her eyes in suspicion. She knew Talia had to have a reason for being down here.

Selene walked after Talia, as she moved down the hall, which twisted to the left up ahead. Finally, they came to a large, locked door, guarded on either side by a pair of sentinels. The statues went to move, but Talia lashed out with a pair of brilliant blue fireballs, which slammed into the statues and caused them to shatter in an explosion of dust and flames.

Her path unopposed, Talia continued forward, flinging the door open with a blast of force. Eyes narrowing, Selene stalked after her, into a dark corridor. Talia summoned a ball of fire in her palm, lighting up the area in an eerie sapphire glow. It turned out it wasn't a corridor, but a long room lined with cells. As the flames illuminated the room, a voice called out from one of the far cells.

"Oh joy, now I can finally finish counting how many rat dropping there are in here. Thank you, kind Ser." It was a familiar, sarcastic voice.

Talia gave a fake cry of pain. "Why Anders my dear, you don't sound happy to see me."

A pair of hands wrapped around the farthest cell, and Ander's voice echoed up to them. "Talia? What are you doing here?"

She moved forward, until she stood in front of his cell. "Anders, I thought you were smart." She cooed, tilting her head sideways. "What usually happens when a beautiful mage comes to her friend who's locked in a cell?"

"The one in the cell usually gets ravished again and again, if I remember correctly." Ander's said suggestively, no doubt giving Talia a flirtatious wink. Selene struggled not to gag at the two of them.

Talia chuckled, extending the hand holding the fire and gripping the cell's padlock. "We'll get to that later, my dear Anders. First, we have to break you out." The blue flames engulfed her hand and the lock, swirling denser and denser.

Finally, she snapped her arm back, and the heated metal gave way, breaking from the cell door as easily as ripping paper. Dropping the bright red padlock, she waved a hand, and the door flung open.

"That was impressive. How did you keep the metal from burning you?" Anders asked as he stepped free of his prison, and Talia gave nauseating giggle.

"Oh, a girl is nothing without her secrets." She said with a wink. As soon as she laid eyes on him, Selene's disgust vanished, and her hands flew to her mouth too late to muffle her gasp.

He was bone thin, and covered in lashes from whips and nasty bruises from what had to be gauntleted fists. His left eye was black and swollen shut, and his lip was split open and still leaking blood. Someone had been viciously beating him during his stay in the dungeons, and it had to have been a regular occasion, for the bruises and marks were of various ages, from very old to brand new.

At the sound of her gasp, Anders turned to face the rest of his company. "Selene? Talia, I can understand, but what in the name of the Maker are you doing down here?" His question went unanswered, as Selene was too stunned by his condition.

She has seen a few bruises on him before, after he was brought back to the tower, but she had assumed it was due to him trying to escape again. These were bruises of unnecessary beatings, ones that made no sense. Why would someone attack him like this?

"I...I..." She couldn't get the words out of her mouth.

Talia sneered over Ander's shoulder. "What's the matter Princess? Too delicate to handle a few bruises?"

"That is more than a few!" She cried, eyes bulging out of her head. "Anders, what happened to you?" The young man rolled his eyes, looking at Selene as if she didn't have a brain in her head.

"What do you think happened, Selene? The templars decided to have some fun after they locked me up. Nothing' better than beating people who can't fight back." He gestured at the manacles on his wrists. There were no chains on them, but if they were what Selene knew they had to be, there was no need for chains.

From the runes glimmering on the metal bands, they were shackles specially made to hold mages. The enchantments rendered a mage powerless, and since magic was practically a mage's only weapon, it gave the templars even more power over them. As long as those were around Ander's wrists, he couldn't even light a candle, meaning that he could be beaten within an inch of his life and do nothing to stop it.

Talia spoke up from beside Anders. "Well, our time for chit-chat is just about over. Time to move." With that, she gripped Anders arm and pulled him after her.

However, as soon as he reached Selene, she reached out and latched onto his arm, pulling him to a halt. "He needs healing, Talia, a blind man could see that." Talia turned and gave her a sneer.

"Well Princess, I don't know if you realized, but we broke into the templars prison cells, so we are a little crunched for time." She yanked Anders back towards her, but Selene yanked him back.

"I don't care. We aren't moving until he has been properly healed." She snapped, glaring hard at Talia. The two glared at each other, neither one willing to back down.

"As wonderful as it is having two beautiful girls fighting over me, I am feeling a little sore." Talia snapped her metallic gaze to Anders, and if looks could kill, he would have more problems than a few bruises. Pulling him towards her and twisting him around, Selene focused her mind, reaching into her reserves of mana. A warm blue glow surrounded her hands, and she raised her arms, gently pressing her fingers to his temples.

Slowly, the light spread across his face, then down his form. As the light moved down his body, the bruises slowly shrank and disappeared, his eyes returned to normal, and his split lip closed. When the healing magic reached the lashes from the whips, she had to focus, concentrating her energy on the injuries. After a few moments, the cuts slowly closed, the blood trying to leak from them rushing back into his skin.

Anders gasped in what could only be relief, and Selene released the spell. Glaring at Talia, she turned and started towards the door, but halted in her tracks.

Echoing down the hall were very familiar, armored footsteps. She was paralyzed, unable to breathe. Somehow, the thought of what they would do if they were caught had never occurred to her. The templar came to the entrance to the cells, and jumped at the sight of them, raising a hand for his sword.

"Hey, what are you doing in h-" He was cut off as Talia stepped around them, pressing a finger to her lips. Selene tensed as a strange magic entered the air, prickling at her skin and chilling her body. The templar's hand froze, and then fell limp as she approached.

"That's a good boy. Now, tell me why you came down here." The voice that came out of the elf was not quite Talia's. It was extremely similar, but at the same time different, smooth and rich, ringing with power. The moment the question finished passing through her lips, the templar's answer was formed.

"I came to punish the prisoner." She couldn't see Talia's reaction, but when she spoke again, there was the tiniest hint of anger.

"Punish him how?" Again, the templar responded immediately, and very oddly, speaking eerily similar to the Tranquil.

"I was going to give him a good beating, the proper punishment for a mage that doesn't follow the rules." Talia tensed, but her voice still maintained that silken quality. Selene walked forward to look Talia in the face, and once she saw it, she let out a gasp.

The elf's pupils were massive, threatening to completely envelop her eyes, and when Selene snapped her head back to look at the templar, she could see within the eye sockets of his helmet, and his pupils were similarly dilated. He still stood there stupidly as Talia spoke again, maintaining an intense stare.

"Well, you're going to turn around and return upstairs, and if anyone asks, you gave that prisoner exactly what he deserved." Her pupils quivered slightly, swelling a bit before shrinking back to normal. Well, back to the same massive size they had been before.

"I did?" The templar asked stupidly, and Talia nodded, speaking to him in an excited, cheery tone.

"Yes! You gave him such a beating he'll be unconscious for at least another day or so. Now, time to go." She smiled and gave the templar a nod. Turning on his heel, he slowly walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the halls. Selene whirled on Talia, staring incredulously at her.

"What was that? Have you been practicing blood magic?" Talia gave her a smirk, completely ignoring Selene's suspicious glare.

"Beings of the Fade have more to offer than blood magic and possession, my dear little Selene." The smug little elf stepped around her, snapping at the others and motioning them to follow her. That stuck up little brat was getting on her last nerve.

What kind of magic was that? Selene had never heard of mages controlling minds without the use of blood magic, and had never read about any other methods of mental control. She had read about demons being able to influence the minds of mortals, but how in the name of Andraste could Talia possess such a talent? Something was wrong with that mage, and it sent chills down her spine.

Her blood pressure climbed as Jowan immediately scurried after her like lost puppy. Well, what she assumed a lost puppy looked like. Soon enough, she was left standing there as the others followed her, only Anders glancing back and motioning for her to come along. Grinding her teeth, Selene followed them out of the dungeon and back to the fork in the hall.

After a few moments, the four of them finally passed through the doorway into the Repository. It was distractingly fascinating, filled to the brim with old books, sculptures, and other artifacts. She couldn't help but drift away from the others, letting her eyes move across the various items filling the room. Huge books, covered in a thick film of dust, strange trinkets that shimmered with an odd light, too many things to look at in the small time they had.

Eventually, she crossed paths with an unusual statue. Selene could feel a strange magic emanating the stone, a magic that was foreign and old. She stopped and looked closer at the sculpture. It was an androgynous figure, holding a long spear in one hand.

"Greetings." Selene let out a shriek, backpedaling away from the statue. She knew that much was possible with magic, but stone talking to her? That was shocking, even for her.

"By the Maker, you can speak?" She could hear the others coming up behind her, but she focused on the statue.

"I am the essence and spirit of Eleni Zenovia, once consort and advisor to Archon Valerius. Prophecy my crime, cursed to stone for foretelling the fall of my lord's house." _Archon?_ Archons were the lords of the Imperium, head of the Imperial Senate and primary governing body of the nation. As a result, they were typically immensely powerful mages, usually trained magical arts forgotten or forbidden in the southern lands. Suddenly, a talking statue didn't seem so unreasonable.

'"_Forever shall you stand on the threshold of my proud fortress,"_ he said, "a_nd tell your lies to all who pass..."_ But my lord found death at the hands of his enemies, and his once-proud fortress crumbled to dust, as I foretold." Her rather one-sided discussion with the statue was interrupted when Lily shouted over her shoulder.

"A Tevinter statue! Don't listen to it! The Tevinter lords dabbled in many forbidden arts! This is a wicked thing!" Selene ground her teeth in irritation. If the statue was really that dangerous, would it even be in the tower?

"I, for one, think it is fascinating. Imagine the power it would take to curse a woman to remain alive encased in stone, **forever**." Talia said, sounding as if she was about to start drooling.

Selene cocked her head, staring curiously at the statue, Eleni. "Do you think she **is** alive?" She wondered aloud, her voice tinged with sorrow at the thought of living in stone forever. The statue was quick to respond.

"Weep not for me, child. Stone they made me, and stone I am, eternal and unfeeling. And I shall endure 'till the Maker returns to light their fires once more." It said in that smooth female voice. Selene was not comforted.

"Do you need any help?" She asked, hoping that there was a way to help the poor woman.

"No help may be given, for this my doom and my destiny." The statue responded. Jowan scoffed from behind her.

"Ambiguous rubbish. It could mean anything. Look, I can do it too: The sun grows dark, but lo! Here comes the dawn!" The childish part of Selene couldn't help but think that Jowan was simply jealous that he didn't sound as interesting as the statue.

"Stop talking to it, please all of you." Lily protested from behind them, voice filled with terror.

Selene begrudgingly agreed. "Yes, we have much to do." They turned away from the statue of Eleni Zenovia, and returned to their task.

"Well, I think I know exactly what we need to do." Talia called after a few moments from the center of the room. She was standing behind another unusual Tevinter artifact, this one an animal shaped stone sculpture. She pointed towards a large bookcase opposite the artifact. "See where the mortar is rotting behind that bookcase? With this little guy we could blast right through it, no problem." She patted the statue's head, letting a few blue flames dance across her fingertips.

Nobody moved, and after drumming her fingers for several moments, Talia snapped her fingers imperiously in their direction. "Well come on, that bookcase isn't going to move itself!" Selene ground her teeth and walked towards the bookcase. Jowan appeared beside her, but she ignored him and simply focused on the task at hand. A few strong pushes later, the large object was moved, and the rotting wall exposed.

Talia rubbed her hands together with a grin, and then placed them on the head of the strange artifact. Fire swirled around her fingertips before erupting from the mouth of the statue, rushing forwards in a massive blast of blue flames. The spell slammed into the wall, blasting apart the stone and raising a smothering cloud of dust.

Once the cloud settled, Selene and Jowan slowly moved down a set of stairs that was on the other side. The minute they entered the phylactery chamber, several sentinels leapt into action, including one that was exceptionally large. Despite their numbers, the statues were quickly dispatched, and they moved up the stairwell to the area where the phylacteries rested on numerous shelves.

"That's my phylactery! We found it!" Jowan darted forward, snatching the vial off of the shelf it rested on and backing away, staring into its swirling red contents. "I can't believe this little vial is all that stands between me and freedom." His voice was practically reverent as he stared at the tiny vial. "So small, fragile, so easy to end its hold over me." He released it, letting the vial fall and smash on the stone floor, blood splashing out in a spray of red. "And I am free."

"Then can we move on? I want this done with." Selene said, an ache resting in her heart. She just wanted this done with, and Jowan made safe.

Lily swiftly agreed with her. "Yes, the sooner we are done with this place, the better."

Talia was already heading down the stairs and towards the door, the same one that they had been unable to pass through in the beginning. This time, however, it opened without difficulty. Anders, Jowan, and Lily hurried after her, but Selene couldn't help but drag her feet, her heart slowly breaking.

The five of them made their way out of the basement, maneuvering through the halls and climbing the stairs back to the main level of the tower. As they reached the main hall, Jowan turned back to them with a huge grin. "We did it! I can't believe it!" Still grinning, he turned to face Talia. "Are we ready to go now?" Talia opened her mouth to respond, but she was cut off.

"So what you said was true, Irving." With that all too familiar clanking of metal filling the room, Knight Commander Gregoir, the First Enchanter, and a half dozen templars advanced on them.

"_No!_" Talia hissed, retreating away from them. Lily reached out and clutched Jowan's hand, gripping it so hard her knuckles whitened, while Anders gave the Knight Commander his usual cheeky smirk.

"G-Gregoir..." Lily stammered, face turning a deathly white.

"An initiate, conspiring with a blood mage. I am disappointed, Lily." He advanced on the pair of them, looking intensely at Lily. "She seems shocked, but fully in control of her own mind. Not a thrall of the blood mage, then." He turned away, returning to the others, still speaking as though they weren't present. "You were right Irving. The initiate has betrayed us. The Chantry will not let this go unpunished.

"And it would appear that Surana has proven herself far more insidious than we had thought." He said, staring coldly at Talia. "Conspiring to help a blood mage escape, and freeing one of our prisoners. Perhaps she is a blood mage as well." The First Enchanter nodded sadly. Gregoir then turned his glare on Selene, stabbing a finger in her direction. "And this one! Newly a mage and already flaunting the rules of the Circle." He snapped, glaring daggers at her.

Irving raised his hand in an attempt to placate Gregoir. "It is all right, Gregoir. She was operating under my orders."

There it was. Selene felt as if the floor was dropping out from under her as Jowan turned back to stare incredulously at her. "You told him? How could you?" He roared, face a mask of betrayal. Selene felt the tears well within her eyes at the sight of his expression.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry Jowan, but I had to! Mages always get caught! I was trying to protect you!" She wailed, desperate to make him see. He scoffed at her, his face hardening with hatred.

"Don't even speak to me!" He bellowed, wheeling about to face Gregoir. "And you! You don't care about us mages; you just bow the Chantry's every whim!" Jowan seemed ready to explode. Gregoir raised his hands, swiftly shutting down anything Jowan was about to say.

"Enough! As Knight Commander of the templars assembled here, I sentence this blood mage to death. And the initiate-" Selene lurched forward, cutting him off.

"**NO!**" She screamed, whirling on the First Enchanter. "You told me Jowan would be safe if I helped you! You swore it!" It was impossible. Jowan couldn't' be executed. She had gone to Irving, hoping that her warning him of Jowan's plan would spare Jowan from harm, and the First Enchanter had assured that she was correct. He wouldn't, **couldn't**, have lied to her, couldn't have used her to ensure that her best friend was put to death.

"I am sorry child. I didn't know what you would do if you believed that Jowan's life was truly in danger." The First Enchanter croaked apologetically. Selene stared unblinkingly at him, her mind not fully comprehending his words. Jowan was intended to die all along, and she had done nothing but ensure it. In a misguided attempt at protecting him, she had practically executed Jowan herself.

"Men, seize them all. The blood mage will die, and the other three shall be sent to Aeonar." Gregoir commanded his templars, who all began to move forward.

Lily backed away from them, eyes wide with terror. "Aeonar! The... the mage's prison. No... Please no. Not there!" Jowan threw himself in front of her, shouting at the templars.

"No, I won't let you touch her!" Everything happened so fast. Selene saw the glint of light flashing across something sharp, and then crimson erupted around Jowan. Blood and magic swirled around him, a dark, sinister energy filling the air. Gregoir shouted something, but Selene paid him no mind.

She watched in horror as Jowan let loose a powerful spell, one that slammed the First Enchanter and all the templars against the ground as if it were nothing. The second they were down, Talia and Anders were rushing past them, fleeing the tower. Jowan and Lily were talking, but Lily backed away from him, gesturing for him to get away. Jowan turned tail and fled, not giving Selene a pacing glance. Her mind was a fog, filled with the insurmountable shock of the last few moments, and the one fact that shattered her heart.

Jowan was a blood mage.

The thought ran through her head again and again, and the moment he slashed his palm flashing behind her eyes in an endless, repeating loop. He had lied to her, made her believe that he was the victim. He had turned to the forbidden arts, and when the consequences came, he tricked everyone around him. She had torn her heart in two to save him, but he had lied to her all along.

"He lied to me...they all lied to me...and I gave them what they wanted." She whispered to herself, arms clutching at her shoulders as she struggled to come to terms with the knowledge before her. Two of the people she trusted most in the world lied to her and used her for their own means, and she had gone right along with it.

She felt numb as the others rose from the ground, and barely noticed that Gregoir was shouting. She managed to shake herself from her stupor when she saw him advancing on Lily, shouting that she had assisted in helping a blood mage escape.

Selene moved forward, maneuvering herself between the two of them. "Stop, she didn't know he was a blood mage!" Gregoir snapped his gaze to her, eyes burning with rage.

"It does not matter if she knew he was a blood mage or not, she willingly betrayed her vows to the Maker, and helped a mage escape justice! She shall be punished." He roared, clearly unwilling to spare her. Selene opened her mouth to defend her, but Lily spoke up from behind her.

"I can speak for myself, Selene." The statement came out cold, and Lily turned her attention back to Gregoir. "I... I was wrong. I was an accomplice to a blood mage. I am willing to face whatever punishment you deem necessary, Knight Commander. Even...even Aeonar." Gregoir scoffed, as if saying such meant anything at all.

"Ger her out of my sight." He snapped, waving her away. A pair of templars moved forward, gripping her arms and pulling down into the basement and most likely the dungeon. The Knight Commander fixed his beady eyes on her, mouth twisting into a scowl.

"And this one. What are we going to do with you?" He gave her an accusing glare, and a bit of fear flared within her. Was she to be sent to Aeonar as well?

The First Enchanter moved forward, raising his hands. "As I said, Gregoir, she was operating under my orders." Selene glowered at him. Irving had used her, betrayed her just like Jowan had. He had used her as a pawn to ensure they all were caught red-handed, and she let herself believe him, believe that he would help her best friend. The best friend that had also used her and stabbed her in the back.

They argued for several moments, the Templars surrounding them shifting nervously, at a loss of whether to grab her or not. They argued until Duncan entered the room, calmly striding up to the pair of them. "Gentlemen, please calm yourselves. I have another solution." The pair of them ceased their argument and turned to face him. "I would like to invoke the Right of Conscription on this mage, and induct her into the Grey Wardens."

Gregoir of course was aghast, and vehemently refused, but in the end there was nothing he could do. Selene was now a Grey Warden recruit, and would be leaving the tower forever.

* * *

**A/N: **And that was chapter two! I want to thank you again for reading this, it really does mean a lot to me. This chapter was really long, I know, but that's just how it ended up when I typed it, and I hope my efforts payed off and were well written. I hope you enjoyed it if you did read it, and if you have any suggestions let me know. Chapter three will be up soon.


	3. The Second Son

**A/N: **This story takes place before my primary Origins story, and introduces the major characters. I made this a separate story for a few reasons, the first of which being that I had already typed them up before I realized that I really didn't want them as a part of my main story. The reason I didn't want them in story is because these first few chapters disrupted the flow of the story I had in mind, and I thought that if they were a part of it I would have to change how I wanted it written. But, I already had started and put a descent amount of work into these first few chapters, so I just thought I'll upload them as a short story consisting of the character's origin stories.

**Warning: **This story is rated T for slightly violent scenes of action and language.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything of the Dragon Age universe. This was created purely for fans by a fan. Read and enjoy!

**Gathering Heroes**

**Chapter Three: The Second Son**

_Castle Highever has stood since the Divine Age, when it was not an independent bannorn, but merely an outpost of the growing Bannorn of Amaranthine...Today, Highever is one of only two remaining teyrnirs, making the Cousland family second in rank only to the king._

* * *

Michael ducked under his enemy's sword, lashing out with a blow of his own that sent them reeling. His body was screaming, burning with stress, sweat pouring down his brow, but he continued nevertheless. Gripping his sword tighter, he darted to the side, moving around the other man's strike. As the weapon passed through empty air, Michael lashed out with the hilt of the dagger in his off hand, slamming it down in the crook of his enemy's elbow.

With a cry of pain, the other man dropped his blade, and Michael pressed his sword against his throat. "Give up yet?" He panted, crooking a brow at his defeated foe.

Also gasping for air, Ser Gilmore nodded his head. "Yes, I surrender. I see you have been training." Michael lowered his sword, and he and Ser Gilmore both moved over to place the practice swords back where they belonged.

"Think I can take on Fergus yet?" He grinned at the knight, but Gilmore shook his head.

"With all due respect, you wouldn't stand a chance." He grinned, but Michael scowled. He had been trying to beat Fergus ever since he started his martial training, but so far he had no luck. He had quickly realized that he would never be able to overpower his brother, and had turned to combat styles that relied more on speed. His parents had each wished for him to adopt their combat style, which were very different. His mother was a master with a bow, while his father fought well with a sword and shield.

When Fergus had adopted his father's brand of fighting, his mother had desperately hoped to get an archer with Michael, but was disappointed when he revealed his atrocious aim. Michael had actually tried his hand at sword and shield combat, and had picked it up fairly well, but competition with Fergus had driven him away from it. Fergus was always the stronger brother, and even handled a greatsword with quite a bit of skill. Michael realized that if he took to combat styles relied on strength, Fergus would always best him.

That led to where he was now, fighting with a sword and dagger, operating with a mix of speed and powerful finesse. He was also training with a pair of longswords, but he still had some practicing to do.

He and Ser Gilmore were in the practice yard as frequently as they could, with Michael honing his skills to eventually best his brother and Gilmore being one of the few knights that didn't hold back because of Michael's status. They had been practicing for almost an hour now, and Michael was exhausted, sweaty, and covered in dirt. If his mother were to see him now, she would have the guards throw him in the sea.

"Well, I think it's about time to get cleaned up. Maker save us if Mother finds me looking like this." Gilmore gave a simple smile, careful not say anything that might sound disrespectful if overheard. Michael heard that Gilmore's commander didn't allow the Cousland's relative leniency let their subordinates forget their place. It was a trait that Michael respected about Ser Gilmore. He remembered his station without being a prude about it.

The two of them left the practice yard and went their separate ways, Ser Gilmore heading to the barracks and Michael heading up to his quarters. Highever Castle had a separate wing for the Cousland's and their close guests, and this was where he headed, stopping along the way to alert a servant that he needed a bath prepared.

When he arrived at his room, a pair of elves already waited for him, and while one prepared the bath, her companion removed his leathers. As she worked, he did what he usually did with the female servants, which consisted of joking, but utterly shameless flirting. When her companion returned and his leathers were removed and ready to be cleaned, he dismissed them both with a parting wink, and moved into the bath.

Sinking into the water, he let out a sigh of relief. There was nothing Michael loved more than relaxing in a cool bath after a day of training. Any other time, and he would want his bath steaming, but after hard days like today, cool baths felt divine. He laid there for a while, before finally forcing himself to scrub the sweat and grime from his body.

When he emerged, he exited the bathing area and returned to his bedroom, heading towards the wardrobe in the far corner. Reaching into it, he pulled out a navy blue tunic, a dark pair of breeches, and a pair of nice boots. Once he was dressed, he headed out and decided to hunt down his father. He would be leaving to join the King in the south soon, and Michael hadn't spoken to him yet today.

He found his father in the main hall, and he was with company, unfortunately. Speaking to his father was Arl Howe, possible the slimiest man Michael had ever seen. How his father put up with that man when half the nation despised him always escaped Michael.

Howe's troops had apparently been delayed, and would not be leaving with Fergus and Bryce in the afternoon as planned, instead arriving tomorrow morning. In response, Michael's father would instead send Fergus out on schedule and leave in the morning with Howe's troops. Michael was hardly surprised that Howe's troops were ill-supplied, seeing who it was that was in charge of them.

Upon noticing his entrance, his father turned to face him with a smile. "Ah, here is my youngest. Howe, you remember my son, Michael?" The question was a polite one, although Michael didn't see a reason the Arl wouldn't remember who he was.

Howe nodded. "Yes, and I see he has grown into a fine young man. It is a pleasure to see you again, lad." It would have been a compliment from anyone else, but coming from Howe's mouth it only made him uncomfortable.

However, Michael only smiled politely and responded with a simple "The pleasure is mine, Arl Howe." He was about to turn to his father, but it seemed the Arl wasn't quite finished yet.

"My daughter Delilah asked after you. Perhaps I should bring her with me next time." The Arl gave what he must have thought looked like a charming smile, but to Michael it reminded him of a grimace. He would enjoy a good tumble with Delilah, as she managed to come from this man without looking like him. The problem, however, was that for some reason Delilah hated him with a passion, and wasn't exactly worth the effort it would take to bed her.

Michael didn't allow his thoughts to surface, and simply smiled again responded diplomatically. "Yes, I think I would enjoy that."

His father and Howe chatted back and forth for a few moments, and Michael was forced to stand there uncomfortably until his father finally spoke to him again. "It's nice that you showed up, Pup, I needed to speak with you. I need you to be in charge of the castle while you brother and I are away."

Michael was taken aback at the revelation that his father was leaving him in charge. He had been trained to command, as was fitting of the son of a Teryn, but he had been under the assumption that his father would his mother in charge, as she was the ruling Teryna. His father seemed to have other ideas.

"Also, there is someone I would like for you to meet." He turned to a guard standing nearby. "Call for Duncan, please." The guard gave a salute, and then left the room to hunt down this Duncan. After a few moments, he returned with a grizzly looking Rivaini man, one that was armed to the teeth. Michael crossed his arms at the disrespect for a stranger to enter a Teryn's presence while armed, especially armed this heavily.

The man, who he assumed was Duncan, bowed his head in the Teryn's direction. "It is an honor to be a guest in your halls, Teryn Cousland." Duncan's voice was just as rough as he appeared, though he at least had enough courtesy to address Bryce with the respect that was deserved.

"Your Lordship, you didn't mention a Grey Warden would be present!" Howe seemed unusually alarmed, suddenly shifting back and forth with obvious discomfort. Bryce turned and gave the Arl a curious look.

"Duncan only just arrived earlier today, unannounced. Is there a problem?" He quirked a brow, waiting for Howe to respond. Howe spluttered, caught in what was apparently an awkward situation, though Michael couldn't imagine why.

"Of course not." He said, trying to recover from his unusual reaction. "But a guest of such stature requires certain protocols. I am...at a disadvantage." The Arl's lip curled slightly in distaste, but of course Bryce didn't notice it. He somehow managed not to notice many of the slimy things Howe did.

"Yes, we rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person." He turned to Michael. "Pup, Brother Aldous taught about the Grey Wardens, I hope."

Michael nodded his head. "Yes, Father. They are an order of great warriors, who fight against the darkspawn." His father nodded, and Duncan cut in to comment.

"Yes, and our fight continues still." Michael turned his attention to the Grey Warden. The man could only be designed as grizzled, his bearded face hard-lined and weathered, his dark eyes staring out at the room with a stoic calm.

"How long do you think the fight in the south will last?" He asked, raising a brow at Duncan. Michael hoped the war wouldn't go on for too long. The longer it went, the longer he was stuck in north, mother worrying and him anxious for news.

Duncan gave him a firm look. "However long it takes to stop this menace. A Blight is not something that can be stopped within a few battles."

Michael kept his face neutral, but on the inside he was already beginning to dislike this Grey Warden. Duncan's order existed outside of the political sphere, but as a guest in Cousland halls he owed Michael respect. Duncan, however, seemed to think treating Michael like an ignorant child was appropriate.

Michael turned his attention away from the warden. "Father, how long until you and Fergus will be leaving?" He asked, hoping that it wouldn't be too soon. He was not looking forward to his father and brother being at war with monsters, and he and mother being stuck far in the north, unable to hear any news. From what he had learned of darkspawn, they were horrible monsters, and their very existence corrupted the land around them.

"Want to get rid of us, do you?" His father laughed, giving Michael a warm smile. His father was fond of not taking things very seriously. Michael would have laughed, but Duncan and Howe were making sure that didn't happen. Instead, he forced a small smile on his face, and shook his head.

"Of course not, Father. I just want to know how long I will have to deal with Mother worrying herself to death." He managed to have a small laugh at his father's reaction. Bryce's eyes went wide, and he pressed a finger to his lips, shushing Michael in mock fright.

"Be careful what you say, Pup! She has ears everywhere! Nothing gets past dear Eleanor, something I thought you of all people would have figured out." Bryce laughed loudly, and wrapped an arm around Michael's shoulder. "And even if something did get past her, old Lady would be on you in a heartbeat."

Lady was castle Highever's oldest hound, practically a part of the castle. She had been around since before Michael was born, and had practically been his second nanny. Whenever Nan was busy, or was too frustrated to deal with him, his mother would have Lady keep an eye on him, and she was excellent at the job. As a giant hound, she could halt his shenanigans in their tracks, and hunt him down anytime he tried to hide. Since mabari are magically bred, they lived over double the lifespan of other large, pure-blooded hounds, easily long enough to grow up alongside Michael, and learn all of his tricks.

Old Lady was also good at keeping the other kennel residents in line. His own hound, Shera, had quickly learned how to behave like a proper hound. This meant she learned how to appear calm and docile, but really be a master manipulator, at the level that only dogs can reach. Shera was a master at getting what she wanted, and not even Michael could resist her. While other hounds would break into the larder when no one was watching, Shera would walk right up to Nan and give the old cook a perfected begging face, and get anything she desired.

"Oh, I know she would. Speaking of which Father, where is Lady?" Michael hadn't seen the hound yet today, a strange occurrence. She normally dropped by to check on him during her daily rounds of the castle. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen much of Shera either.

"Oh, the old girl has been following Duncan's recruit around since they arrived. They are quite taken with each other." Bryce chuckled, but Michael was confused. Duncan had a recruit? More importantly, Duncan had a recruit that Lady like enough to follow around? That was something he had to see.

"Duncan, I heard you were looking for recruits here too." His father said to Duncan conversationally.

The Grey Warden nodded his head in response. "I am, Your Grace. I hope to gather as many recruits as I can before I head back to Ostagar." Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Duncan had a grand total of one recruit. _As many as needed, my ass_. "If I might be so bold, your son holds quite a bit of promise, my Lord."

The two of them continued on for a short time, chatting back and forth about things that Michael paid little attention to. At the first polite opportunity, he slipped away from the room, heading out to see what his hound was up to.

Once he was out in the main hall, he put his fingers to his lips and whistled as loudly as he could, the sound ringing across the stone. After a moment of waiting, an answering bark reached his ears, and after that he heard the steadily increasing sound of clawed feet hitting the ground.

Shera came skidding around a corner, bounding up to him. Coming to a sliding halt directly in front of him, she gazed up at him with her warm eyes, mouth agape as she panted and her stubby tail wagging.

"There you are, big girl." Michael reached a hand forward, gently scratching around her ears. "I haven't seen much of you today." At his accusatory tone, she whined and pressed her head against his palm, giving him an apologetic look, ceasing her tail's wagging.

"So, I hear old Lady found herself a friend. Is it true?" Shera gave a bark of conformation, her tail wagging again. Michael felt a grin tugging at his lips at her canine happiness, giving her another scratch.

"Do you want to take me to them?" Shera barked happily, and walked away at a brisk pace, forcing him to hurry after her.

She led him up and around the hall to the left, then cut into the garden courtyard. It was located in the center of the castle, just behind the main hall. There was another, much larger garden outside of the chapel, but this was one his mother personally tended to.

Shera leapt ahead of him with a bark, and a voice greeted her. "Oh, your back! Did you finish whatever you had to do?" The speaker was female, a female with a voice that spoke of a pretty face. It was high and clear, with the cultured accent of someone with a good education, and was spoken to the hound in a kind, gentle tone. He entered the garden, and the woman looked up to him from her seat on a bench, which was also occupied by Lady. "Oh, you brought a friend."

The girl was quite the sight, her pale skin almost glowing amongst the dark reds and greens of the roses. Thick blonde waves cascaded around a beautiful face with high cheekbones, full lips, and a set of stunningly vivid blue eyes. Her youthful, innocent features seemed crafted to bear a wide, joyful smile. Michael was definitely interested, and he knew how to get a girl he was interested in. It didn't hurt matters that his charm was enhanced by Maker-blessed good looks. Thick black hair, smoldering green eyes, a strong jaw, excellent bone structure, all put together in a face that helped him become quite the ladies' man around Highever.

"Why, yes she did bring a friend, her very best." He smiled, and she smiled back, and ran her fingers through Lady's thick fur. "Well, I _was _her best friend, until you decided to steal her away from me."

The girl grinned. "I didn't mean to, she just started following me." She turned back to Shera, reaching her hands forward and scratching behind her ears. "And I am so glad you did, you are so cute!" Shera gave a happy bark, and Michael barely kept his jaw closed. Shera hadn't allowed anyone to refer to her as 'cute' in **years**. Who was this girl? As she focused on petting Shera and Lady, he looked her over again.

She was obviously no farmer's daughter, judging by her educated speech, and the fact that it didn't look as though she ever lifted anything heavier than a book in her life. She could possibly be some form of nobility, but most noblewomen wore dresses. The robe she wore was more like a member of the Chantry, except it wasn't the red he normally saw. Instead, they were a rich blue, and adorned with some unfamiliar symbol, a symbol that was also present on a ring adorning one of the slender fingers of her right hand.

He had known she was pale, but he somehow hadn't quite noticed just how pale. She was deathly white, as though she and the sun hadn't gotten along in a long time. He had seen pale women, women who spent most of their waking moments indoors, but this was different. She was paler than prisoners who hadn't seen anything other than the cell walls for months. The only sign that she had been out in the daytime was a faint redness to her cheeks, so hard to notice as to approach invisible.

The most puzzling fact was that all of these features, while confusing on their own, were absolutely dumbfounding when coupled with the fact that she was a Grey Warden recruit. She looked as if battle was a foreign concept to her, and the Wardens were warriors who spent their whole lives fighting darkspawn.

"So, what brings you to Highever?" He asked, already knowing the answer but hoping to get her to talk. As he spoke, he moved forward and sat on a bench beside the one on which she and Lady rested upon, leaning forward and resting his arms on his legs, smiling warmly at her.

She ran her fingers through the dogs' fur, both content with her touch. "I'm here with the Grey Warden, Duncan. I'm his new recruit." Something he already knew, but the window for a compliment was open.

"You, a Grey Warden? I thought you had to be scarred up old men to join their order, not pretty little ladies." She smiled, and he notched himself up one small victory.

"Oh stop, before you make me blush." She smiled, flashing a set of nice teeth. Getting this girl was going to be so easy.

"I'm sorry, but I always tell a woman how beautiful she is." He grinned at her, placing just the right amount of innocent nonchalance into his voice. An unusual expression flashed across her face, and then she smiled and gave him a look that meant she wasn't fooled.

"Well, thank you." She turned to look at Lady and Shera, giving them each a good scratch. "So, are these your hounds?" A change in the conversation, but nothing he couldn't handle.

"More like I'm their human." Ugh, not the best thing to say, but it got her to laugh, so perhaps it wasn't as bad as he thought. "Shera there owns me, and Lady owns this whole castle." He pointed to each dog respectively, and the both gave woofs of confirmation.

The girl laughed, giving the mabari a fond look. "Well, they seem like good companions." He couldn't help but notice she didn't say pet, and the hounds seemed happy with her word choice as well.

"They are the very best. They only take to the best kind of people." That one wasn't very subtle, but the girl didn't seem to notice. "They both appear quite fond of you."

Another unusual look, followed this time by a wide grin. Michael was on a roll with this one. She turned back to him, cheeks dimpled in amusement, and he was certain that with a little bit more, this girl would be wrapped around his finger. She was quite the looker, deathly pale or not, and he was going to make sure he caught her.

"You're very charming." She intoned, and that wonderful smile was still on her face. "Do you treat every girl you meet like this?"

"Only the ones I like." He was laying it on a tad thick, but this girl seemed to enjoy it. Despite how pale and delicate she was, she was still very pretty. Those eyes, peeking out from underneath their long lashes, were dazzling, and that smile was wonderful.

"Oh, so you like me now, do you?" She asked, her brow raised in curiosity. Michael grinned at her, giving her a wink.

"Why yes, I think I do." He said lowly, giving her a perfected smoldering look. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly, her body remaining still. He leaned in closer, placing a hand next to her thigh on the bench, his fingertips just brushing the edge of her robe.

"Really? So, what happens when you like them?" She asked in a quivering voice, her eyes wide. He leaned in even closer, and she did the same, until he could feel her quick breathing tickling his face.

"Why don't we find out?" Her eyes fluttered and closed, and her lips quivered, held slightly open. He leaned in to press his lips against hers, and was mere centimeters away when she burst into laughter. Michael couldn't have been more confused, as she fell back onto Lady, holding her sides as she laughed uproariously.

"By the Maker, I had you going!" She howled, tears welling in her eyes. "I'll admit, you had me in the beginning, but once I caught on I got you so good!" Michael had never been more confused. Every sign had pointed to this girl being innocent and most likely naive, and he had never, **ever** read any female this wrong. Maker, he even knew how to read the dogs! Calming into simple giggling, she leaned forward, giving him a smirk. "I've met boys like you before, and you aren't fooling me, Ser." With a final laugh, she rose and swept out of the room, Lady following after her.

Andraste's ass, who was that girl?

* * *

Michael settled into his seat in the dining room, watching as the last of the attendees slowly filed in. His family's table was perched at the head of the room, with his mother and father front and center. His mother had arranged an afternoon banquet to say farewell to his brother and, at least before Howe's news earlier, his father as well. Every important person in the castle was here, as well as those from the city below.

They were all gathered here to bid a sad farewell to their Teryn and his heir, as well as their troops, yet his mother refused to allow it to be depressing, pulling all the stops to make it an enjoyable occasion.

The servants had been working tirelessly to prepare a feast, and had called in a band of musicians who played a gentle tune from the center of the room. Those present spoke amongst themselves, a pleasant hum of chatter filling the room.

Despite the pleasant atmosphere, Michael wasn't feeling like himself. His encounter with that girl had left him uncomfortable, confused as to how he had misread her so spectacularly. Even more confusing, was who exactly she was to begin with. He knew she was a Grey Warden recruit, but that was all the information he had, and it simply added to the confusion.

How exactly had such a girl such as her and up as a recruit of an order of legendary warriors who fought corrupted monsters? She was, in every single way, the opposite of what he, and most likely everyone, imagined a warrior to be. Delicate, pale, slender, looking as if she had spent her whole life indoors reading books.

Even if she weren't a Warden recruit, she was still confusing. He had never seen someone like her, and he lived in a major port city, where one saw all kinds of people.

His thinking was interrupted when his father stood, and the chatter in the room hushed to near silence. "Greetings, my friends and loyal vassals. Today, we gather to bid farewell to my eldest, Fergus. His Majesty, King Cailan, has called upon the men and women of Ferelden to take up arms in the south, to combat the most horrific of enemies: the darkspawn." Whispers floated through the room, but his father continued his speech. "The darkspawn are a horror we thought forgotten. After all, the last time they rose up was 400 years ago, so long ago that many of us have let them slip from our minds. However, there are those who have remembered the threat they pose, even after all these years." His father gestured to his left, and Michael was shocked that he had missed Duncan sitting in the seat reserved for the most honored guest, the seat closest the Teryn and his family.

"Duncan, Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, came to us with a warning: a Blight is upon us. He has come from the fortress of Ostagar in search of recruits, and has already has shown success. Inducted into his ranks is Selene Amell, a mage of the Circle, ready to use her magic to protect the people from this menace." Michael was floored by the revelation. A mage? Mages were foreign things, people kept away from the rest of society because of the danger they posed. The Chantry taught that the ancient Tevinter mages had brought the world to the edge of ruin, and had forced the Maker to turn his back on humanity. Demons were drawn to them, and because of this they risked becoming Abominations, mad beings that could unleash untold destruction.

That the girl that grasped his attention, Selene, was mage was shocking, to say the least. When he pictured mages, he pictured either weathered old men who spent their time reading dusty books, or dark, leering wretches who twisted the minds of those around them, not some pretty little thing who enjoyed petting dogs. However, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Mages were housed in a tower, kept there to study and learn to control their magic, all while under the vigilance of the Templars. This would account her paleness and frail build, as she would have spent her life indoors reading books. Still, he found the revelation unsettling.

Michael drew himself from his thinking when he realized he had missed a chunk of his father's speech. "Today, Fergus, a son of Highever, will lead our forces south to join the King in Ostagar, and there, we will beat these monsters back into the ground where they belong!" Those present cheered and clapped, and Michael saw Selene smile and clap with everyone else. Shouting over the uproar, his father finished his speech. "Now, let's not let him leave on a dower note. Today, we celebrate!"

They roared again, and the party had begun. The band began playing an upbeat tune, and people began to swirl thorough the room, dancing or hunting for the ale. Amidst the chaotic mass of people, Michael spotted Selene maneuvering through the crowd, and exiting a back entrance that he knew lead to an expansive balcony. Without thinking, he abandoned his seat and skirted around the edges of the room, following her outside.

There she was, standing in the shade to avoid the afternoon sun, leaning on the stone railing and looking out over the city and sea below. Michael moved forward, leaning onto it beside her. "Quite the view, isn't it?" He asked, peering over at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes. I've never seen anything like this before. It's...different. You hear about the sea in stories and books, but nothing quite prepares you for when you see it with your own eyes." Her voice was soft, her eyes distant as she gazed out at the enormous expanse of blue water. A storm crackled far out over the water, darkening the horizon except for the occasional flashes of lightning. "I haven't seen it in so long, I almost forgot..." She trailed off, lowering her head.

"So..." He began slowly, careful to keep his voice completely neutral. "Is it true what my father said in there? Are you really a mage?" At the question, she let out a disturbingly defeated sigh.

"Yes, I am a mage." She answered, her voice filled with resignation. At the tone, he leaned in closer, placing a hand on her arm.

"I'm sorry, have I offended you?" At his touch she flinched, drawing herself just out of his arm's reach. Once out of his reach, she shook her head, still looking out over the city.

"No, you haven't offended me, my lord." She sighed, rubbing her arms uncomfortably. "It's just... never mind. I should head back to Duncan." She turned to leave, but he reached out and grabbed her arm, turning her back to face him.

"So, can you start fires with your mind, or something else magical?" Michael couldn't keep the awe out of his voice. This woman could perform feats with her mind that were beyond what Michael believed to be possible, yet she seemed upset about it.

At his childlike tone, Selene gave a small smile. "Yes, I can do magic. That is what it means to be a mage, after all."

"Can you show me?" He asked, gazing at her hopefully. Selene raised her arm, holding a clenched fist in the air between them. With a flourish, she extended her fingers and twisted her palm toward the sky, and flames leapt to life across her hand, dancing wildly and glowing brightly. Michael felt his breath leave him in a rush, and he raised a hand, holding his fingers near the dancing tongues of fire. Heat flushed across his fingertips, and he gazed at her in wonder.

Suddenly, the warm heat changed to biting cold, and he looked down to see her hand glowing an icy blue, cold mist curling around her palm. Slowly, the glow disappeared, and the chill vanished with it. He reached out, snatching her hand into his grasp. Stunned, he raised his gaze back to hers, meeting her wide eyes. "Your hands aren't even cold."

"Magical, isn't it?" She joked, giving him a nervous smile. Michael was absolutely amazed at the thought of someone being able to perform such feats. He simply stared at her for several moments, looking into those vivid eyes, attempting to grasp the fact that this beautiful, delicate woman could possess such power. She began to shift nervously, her eyes flitting down to their hands and back to his face. "Uhm, may I have my hand back?"

Startled, Michael released her hand, feeling foolish at how he was acting. "I apologize. I'm just a little...overwhelmed. What you can do is truly amazing." He expected her to be pleased at the compliment, but once again he judged her incorrectly. Instead, she turned away from him again crossing her arms and gazing out over the city.

"Simple tricks you find amazing. But when you see what we mages can really do, you won't think it's so amazing." There it was again, that disturbingly defeated tone of voice. Michael was about to question her on it when a voice sounded from behind them.

"Ah, there's my brother! Here I am, about to leave, and your hiding out here on the balcony." Michael turned to see Fergus and some of his lieutenants standing the doorway, beckoning him towards them. He turned back to Selene, but she was moving away, slipping back into inside through one of the smaller doorways. In a small way, he was glad she had left. Here he was, his brother about to leave to the south the battle monsters, his father soon to follow, and here he was losing his head over some stranger, however magical she was.

Smiling, he walked towards his brother, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him back into the party.


	4. Fall of Highever

**A/N: **This story takes place before my primary Origins story, and introduces the major characters. I made this a separate story for a few reasons, the first of which being that I had already typed them up before I realized that I really didn't want them as a part of my main story. The reason I didn't want them in story is because these first few chapters disrupted the flow of the story I had in mind, and I thought that if they were a part of it I would have to change how I wanted it written. But, I already had started and put a decent amount of work into these first few chapters, so I just thought I'll upload them as a short story consisting of the character's origin stories.

**Warning: **This story is rated T for slightly violent scenes of action and language.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything of the Dragon Age universe. This was created purely for fans by a fan. Read and enjoy!

**Gathering Heroes**

**Chapter Four: Fall of Highever**

_"Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature."_

* * *

This couldn't be happening.

After the party, Michael had bid his brother farewell, spent time with his family, put in put in a bit of light exercise, and then collected Shera and went to sleep. She had awoken him with her furious barking, and he heard the chaotic sounds outside. Michael had grabbed his sword and opened his door in time to see a guard taken down by a crossbow bolt. He and Shera had managed to dispatch most of the assailants, his mother arriving and taking down the last of them with her bow.

The horrifying thing was the soldiers' heraldry. It was that of the Arl of Amaranthine. Castle Highever was under assault by the Arl's men.

At least, they had believed that was the most horrifying thing, until he and mother had seen the door to Fergus's room was agape. When they entered, they had found Oriana and Oren lying dead on the ground, their bodies slashed and mutilated.

Michael felt as if the ground had been pulled out from underneath him. It was impossible, unimaginable, that they could be dead. These kinds of things only happened to other people, or in stories and tales, not his home.

Yet no matter how much he denied it, they were still dead, killed at the hands of the men under the command of their father's trusted friend. His mother collapsed to her knees, hands grasping at her grandson's corpse, desperately begging him to rise. His blood stained her hands, her legs, her face she pressed her head to his chest, sobbing.

"Mother, we have to move." His voice was choked with pain, and tears fell from his eyes. Shera whined, moving into the room and gently licking Oren's lifeless face. His mother screamed in grief, wrapping Oren in her arms and rocking back and forth.

"Please, Maker, no! Give him back, please, give him back!" She pressed her forehead to his, weeping. "Give him back, give him back, give him back!" Michael kneeled down, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Mother, we must go. There is nothing we can do." It took every ounce of his willpower to keep from breaking down, to keep himself together long enough to escape this nightmare.

"Why? Why would he do this? We trusted him." She whispered, gazing into Oren's face. Michael shook his head, the same question running through his mind.

"I don't know Mother." He gazed into his nephew's bloodied face, and it felt as if someone had stabbed his heart. She gently set Oren's body back on the ground, one of her tears falling free and landing on his face.

"I swear to the Maker, he will pay for this. That treacherous bastard will face justice for this!" She snarled, her voice becoming steely with determination. Slowly she rose, but not before planting one final kiss on Oren's forehead. "Goodbye, my little Oren."

Glancing at his nephew and sister-in-law one last time, Michael and his mother turned away from the horrible sight. However, it still haunted their minds, as it probably would for the rest of their days.

They carved their way through more Amaranthine soldiers, their fury and pain giving them strength. Michael ducked under the sword of an attacker and slashed his dagger across the man's throat, not even staying to watch the man fall. He leapt sideways, intercepting the path of another trying to get to his mother. The man yelled in fury, raising his greatsword to attack. Before he could, Shera leapt up and snapped onto his arm, pulling him back and allowing Michael to plunge his blade into the man's stomach.

Another nearby fell, an arrow protruding from his eye. The last soldier, realizing he was alone, turned to flee, but his mother didn't let them get away. With a twang from her bow, she loosed an arrow that caught him in the back of the knee, bringing him to the ground. Michael rushed forward, kicking the man and rolling him over.

"Please, sir, don-" Michael stabbed his sword into the man's throat, ending his pleading. Despite finishing this group of soldiers, noise continued from just nearby. The three of them quickly rounded a corner to see a servant trying to escape a pair of soldiers.

He was scrambling across the ground, and the soldiers laughed loudly as one of them viciously kicked him, sending him sprawling sideways. "Where you going, knife-ear?" He sneered, and his companion laughed loudly, giving the elf another kick.

"Let's get rid of this trash, eh?" Jeered the first one, raising his sword to strike down the poor elf. Before he could strike, however, a blast of violet light streaked through the air, striking him in the back and knocking him to the ground.

"Hey, leave him alone!" Michael looked to the end of the hall and gasped. Selene stood with a staff held tightly in both hands, magical energy crackling around its edges.

The attacker still on his feet began laughing, twirling his sword in an obvious threat. "Or what? You gonna zap me, little girl? Get up you idiot." He kicked at his downed companion, who slowly clambered to his feet.

They both began advancing on Selene, who gripped her staff tighter. "Stay back! I'm warning you!" She cried, backing away from them. She released another blast of violet light, but the soldiers ducked around it and continued closing in on her. Without thinking, Michael dashed forward, ignoring his mother's cry. He had to stop them, or Selene would become just another body on the ground, like his nephew and sister-in-law. He wasn't going to let these bastards have more victims, not if he could stop it.

The soldiers were closing in, and Selene had backed into a wall. "This is your last chance." She whispered, gazing at them with wide eyes. The larger one laughed, and raised his sword.

"Let's get rid of that little stick, and you and us have some fun." He sneered, and lunged forward. Selene reacted quickly, pointing her staff and releasing her magic. A stream of electricity rushed forward, striking the man in his chest. He convulsed violently, and fell back to the ground, the blue energy crackling along his armor.

The second soldier cried out in rage and lashed out with his sword, but she slammed her staff on the ground, releasing a massive wave of force. Michael's charge was halted as he was caught up the wave of energy, which knocked back and sent him crashing to the ground.

His head snapped against the ground, and the pain made his mind go blank for several moments. A haze of light and sound filled his head, and his eyes refused to focus. Slowly, a face materialized through the haze, gazing at him with concern from within a curtain of blonde waves.

"Hold still, Ser Cousland." Selene said, her voice sounding unusually far away. "You got caught in that telekinetic blast of mine, and cracked your head against the floor." He was growing more aware of a warm touch against the back of his head, and the faint blue glow floating up in his peripheral vision.

"Idiot!" His mother hissed, glaring viciously down at him. "What were you thinking, running off like that?" If looks could kill, he would have far more problems than a bump on the head.

"I don't know, Mother. I wasn't thinking." He sat up as Selene pulled her hand away, the ache in his head fading. However, a sharp pain shot up in its place as his mother slapped him across the back of the head.

"Of course you weren't thinking! You could have been killed!" She screamed, face turning red with fury. "We need to get out of this castle alive, Michael, and this isn't going to happen if you go running off like a fool!"

Before she could continue, Selene raised her hands, trying to calm his mother. "Please, this isn't a good time to argue." Her face was pleading, and she continued flicking her eyes back to the two dead soldiers.

His mother's exhaled loudly, apparently accepting that what the mage said was true. Michael pulled himself to his feet, moving over to where his blades had fallen. The sounds of battle still echoed distantly throughout the castle, though the immediate fight was over.

"What do we do now?" He asked, turning towards his mother. She thought about it for several moments, before something came to mind.

"We need to get to the treasury. The family sword is in there, and I refuse to let that treacherous bastard get his hands on it." She finished with a snarl, her fists clenched tightly. Michael felt the same fury, and nodded his head fiercely.

"Let's go." The four of them set out through the castle, heading down towards the treasury. Selene proved to be quite the person to have on one's side, as her powers were phenomenal. She summoned barriers and shields to protect them, summoned burst of fire, and healed any small injuries they sustained through her willpower alone. She and his mother settled at the back of the battlefield while Michael and Shera fought in the front, the four of them tearing a path through the chaos of the castle until they finally reached the treasury.

"Here is the key." His mother said, drawing it from her belt. Quickly, she unlocked the heavy metal door and they entered the treasury. Surrounding them were all the various riches that his family had accumulated throughout the centuries that they had ruled over Highever. Michael felt familiar pride in his family, and fury that Howe's jealousy would drive him to this.

His mother moved towards a sturdy looking door at the back of the room. "What room is this?" Michael asked stepping close to her. His mother gave him a quick glance and then turned back to the door, looking thoughtful.

"This is our family's personal store room. All of our most treasured items are behind this door." She raised her hands and removed the glove on her right hand. As always, her ring finger was adorned with her Cousland family ring. "The ruling Teryn and Teryna are always given this ring, but it's more than just a ring. It's also a key."

She closed her fingers into a fist and pressed the ring into a slot where the handle would be. A series of clicking sounds came from the door, and then, it opened. "The door is dwarven made, virtually impregnable by anyone who isn't wanted." She said, almost wistfully, before moving into the room.

It was a small room, probably barely able to fit the four of them. Inside were various little things, paintings, jewels, books, arms, and in the center, a large chest. His mother moved to the sword and shield hanging over the chest. "Michael, take these. I know it'll weigh you down more than you're used to, but you should be able to carry them along with the weapons you already have." Michael nodded, placing the weapons on his back and adjusting them so that he would still move well.

His mother then bent down to the chest, unlocking it with her ring. She reached inside and drew a few small booklets and envelopes, and a sizeable coin purse, placing them in her pack. Shouldering the bag, she turned to him with a determined look. "Alright, let's go."

Michael turned about to see Selene still hovering near the door, gazing around the room in awe, blue eyes filling her face. Shera stood beside her, looking anxious, her hackles still slightly raised.

"You heard her. Let's move." Michael said, moving past the two of them. The two followed him and his mother out of the treasury and into the hall. "Mother, I think we should head to the main hall, and see if Father is there." She nodded, and they set out, rushing towards the main hall.

When they arrived, the saw chaos. Ser Gilmore and three other castle guards were facing at least ten Howe soldiers. His mother quickly drew an arrow and released it with a twang, bringing down an unsuspecting soldier. As soon as he was down, several others turned about and rushed for the new enemies.

Michael would have rushed into the fray if he hadn't noticed something that made his blood run cold. One of the soldiers wasn't carrying weapons or wearing armor. Instead, she wore robes, and was surrounded by crackling energy. She was a mage, like Selene.

The mage began moving her hands about, summoning some kind of spell that she cast forward with a shout. Michael tried to pull himself out of the way, but his limbs refused to move, and he watched as the swirling bolt of energy headed straight towards him. At the last moment, a wall of blue light appeared between Michael and the spell, absorbing the magical attack.

"Don't just stand there!" Selene shouted from behind him. "You help the others, I'll hold her off!" She stepped forward, and she and the mage began to duel, attacking and defending with bright flourishes of power. Michael rushed to Gilmore's assistance, cutting down an unsuspecting soldier before crossing blades with another. This wasn't a training session, this was a battle to win or die.

He ducked sideways as his enemy brought his sword slashing down, and Michael then lashed out with his dagger, attempting to disarm the Howe soldier. Before he could land a hit, however, a sharp pain erupted in his shoulder, and he yelled in pain and shock. The Howe soldier that had snuck up behind him yanked the blade out of his left shoulder, and then readied himself for the final blow.

Before he could strike, an arrowhead erupted from his throat, and he collapsed to the ground, spluttering and coughing up mouthfuls of blood. Michael didn't look up to thank his mother, instead whirling about and clumsily blocking the attack from his original enemy. Now that he was injured, he was steadily being forced backwards, his injured arm barely able to be of any use.

The Amaranthine invader was pressing his advantage, and Michael already had a few shallow cuts and scrapes from strikes that were only just avoided. Finally, the soldier knocked aside Michael's sword and kicked him hard, throwing him to the ground. His enemy laughed triumphantly, and readied himself for the kill. His sword plunged forward, heading to pierce Michael's chest...only to meet a shimmering barrier of energy, a wall of blue light protecting his chest by holding the sharp point of the sword back.

Michael gasped, the fact that there was no pain, no death, forcing paralyzing him with shock. He flicked his wide eyes to Selene, who stood with her hands raised, a look of intense concentration on her face. "Hurry, Ser Cousland! Get out of the way!" Heeding her words, Michael rolled sideways and pulled himself to his feet. He retreated away from the fight, pressing a hand to his injured shoulder. Blood was rushing between his fingers, and pain burned through his nerves.

He watched as Selene turned back to the mage, who was pulling herself off of the ground with a snarl. Selene fired off a blast of energy, and she nimbly darted sideways, retaliating with a blast of fire. Selene unleashed her own blast of fire, which crashed into her opponents and canceled it out in a swirl of dying flames.

The two mages stared each other down, each crackling with power as they prepared to attack. The other mage struck first, lashing out with a bolt of energy. Selene blocked the spell and fired back her own, beginning a quick dance of blocks and dodges, flashes of light and power filling the room. The two of them were evenly matched, with Selene blocking the other mage's spells and the other mage dodging hers.

Finally, Selene launched a fireball that exploded near her feet and threw the mage into the air, tossing her backwards. She struggled to rise, but at that moment an arrow found a home in her throat, and she fell to the ground, clutching feebly at it before dying. The fight was almost over, with Ser Gilmore dispatching one last soldier.

Selene approached Michael, placing a hand on arm. "Hold still, and brace yourself. This won't feel nice." She said gently, before working to summon some kind of spell.

"What won't feel-" He was cut off as she began healing his injured shoulder. It was extremely discomforting, quite a bit different than the shallow cuts she had healed earlier. Torn muscle and flesh slowly knitted itself back together with a painfully itchy sensation. Michael made to squirm, but she squeezed his arm hard.

"Don't move." Selene said sternly, brow furrowed in concentration. After a few moments, the sensation stopped, and he felt warm relief spread through him. Slowly, he rolled his shoulder, testing it for any problems. To his shock, it was perfectly fine. When he stared into the space gap in his armor that had allowed the injury, he didn't even see mark other than the new pink skin. "I'm not the greatest healer, but that should be enough."

"Oh, it's more than enough." Michael breathed, raising his arm in disbelief. That injury should have left his arm permanently impaired, never able to regain its full motion. Yet here he stood, practically unharmed.

"My Lord! My Lady! Thank the Maker you still live!" Ser Gilmore cried, approaching them with a face filled with relief.

"Barely. Where is my father?" Michael said harshly, his rage returning. All he wanted to do was find his father and get, and then return to Howe for his vengeance. Gilmore slowly shook his head, face paling.

"I don't know, my lord. When we last saw him, he was already wounded. I think he headed towards the servant's exit in the larder. He probably hoped to meet the two of you there." He said slowly. Michael felt the chasm underneath him grew larger at the knowledge that his father was injured. His father couldn't be dead, he just couldn't.

"Please, you must go. I don't know how much longer we can hold the gate." Ser Gilmore said anxiously. His eyes kept flicking back to the guards holding the doors against the tremendous force crashing into it from the outside.

His mother nodded her head, looking at Gilmore with tear filled eyes. "Thank you, Ser Gilmore. May the Maker watch over you." She whispered, gently gripping Michael's arm and pulling him away.

"May He watch over us all." Ser Gilmore said solemnly, before they exited the room and headed down the halls. Michael knew Ser Gilmore, and all of those knights would die. There was no way that they could stop Howe's soldiers from entering, and there were too few of them to defeat them. More death, more people he knew falling victim to this treachery. He felt a stab in his heart at the loss of his good friend.

They were approaching the larder when several more soldiers appeared, including one of Howe's knights. They were battling two Highever guards, and had them seriously outnumbered. Michael rushed forward, plunging his dagger into a gap in one's armor. The Amaranthine soldier cried out in pain as Michael threw him to the ground, wrenching his blade out of the man's side. Another soldier turned to face him, and Michael lashed out with his sword.

The soldier reacted quickly, raising his own blade and deflecting the strike. They exchanged several blows before Michael spun around a stab at his side, raising his dagger and slashing the man across his throat. Turning about, he observed the fight for a few moments. Shera was engaged in a fearsome battle with another mabari, the two of them fighting amongst the fallen soldiers.

However, his mother was being targeted by one of the invaders. He was forcing her to retreat, as he was too close to get a good shot in with her bow, and every strike he made was only just avoided. Michael rushed forward hoping to help her, but Howe's knight lunged in front of him. The man raised his massive battle axe, swinging it for Michael's head.

Michael ducked back, trying to back away from the hulking knight, but the man was quicker than he looked, and lashed out with a powerful kick. The blow slammed into Michael's chest, throwing him backwards and to the ground. The impact was enough to force the air from his lungs, and he lost his grip on his sword, which slid just out of his arm's reach.

The knight slammed a foot down on his chest, pinning Michael to the floor. "Time to die, little boy." He growled, before raising his axe high. Michael knew the strike would slice right through his skull, and that he couldn't move out of the way this time.

Suddenly, a huge brown shape hurtled over him, crashing into the knight and dragging him to the ground. Lady snarled as she jumped off the man's chest, getting behind him and gripping his helmet. Yanking the protective covering off of his head, she then lunged for his exposed throat, gripping him just under his chin.

The knight's screams were quickly silenced as the old hound tore his throat out, leaving him slowly bleeding on the ground. Growling, the hound whipped around and rushed for the soldier attacking his mother. Lady jumped up and gripped his sword as he raised it to strike, and his mother took the time gained to draw an arrow with her hand and plunged it into the man's neck.

Shera, who had finished her opponent and then moved on to a human target, looked up from the mess she was making of an Amaranthine soldier. His mother quickly rushed past the downed men, heading for the kitchen door not far down the hall.

As soon as the opened the doors, they saw that the soldiers had already beat them to the kitchen. Nan and her servants were lying dead on the ground, bodies slashed open. By now, Michael had become almost numb to the death and destruction filling his home.

Almost.

He didn't have time to mourn Nan's death, not now. He had to find his father and get out of this death trap. Michael rushed for the larder, just a step behind his mother. The pushed open the door to enter the small room, looking around for his father. When he spotted him, it took him several seconds to comprehend what he was looking at.

Bryce Cousland laid spread out on the ground, desperately trying to stem the bleeding from a deep wound in his side. He was covered in blood, and a pool of it was slowly spreading out underneath him. "There you both are! I was...wondering, when you would get here."

"Bryce!" His mother cried. They rushed over to him, crouching down close to him. "Maker's blood, what's happened? You're bleeding!"

"Howe...I was still meeting with him when his men attacked. He...he made sure he was...the one to get me. I barely managed to...to get away." His father said slowly, panting and coughing in pain. Michael simply stared in shock, watching as his father's blood slowly spread across the stones.

"Why?" He whispered. "Why would he do this to us?"

His father turned to him. "I don't know, but he...he can't get away with this. The king will-" He was cut off by a violent cough, and blood slowly trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"Bryce! We must get you out of here!" His mother cried, gently gripping his father's shoulders.

His father slowly shook his head. "I...I won't survive the standing, I think." No. This couldn't be happening. His father couldn't be dying, it just couldn't be happening.

"No! You'll be alright, Father, we just need to get you out of here!" He cried, shaking his head stubbornly. He would drag his father out of here if he had to.

His mother shook her head to, her eyes widening. "Once Howe's men break through the gates, they will find us. We must go!" She was glancing back at the door, as if waiting for them to spring through.

"Someone...must reach Fergus...tell him what's happened." His father said earnestly, struggling to force his words out through the pain. Michael pictured his brother, the pain of him learning about what had been done to his wife and child.

"Then we can back this bastard **pay**." Michael snarled, gripping his sword tightly. They would all get out of here, and then his family would pay back that bastard ten times over.

"Bryce, the servant's passage is right here! We can escape, get you healing magic!" His mother begged, grabbing his hands and trying to get him to find the will to rise.

"The castle's surrounded." He said sadly. "I won't make it." Michael refused to believe it, and yet the puddle of blood underneath his father was slowly growing larger and larger.

"No! Father, you have to get up! We can get you out of here!" Michael begged. He had to get up, because if he didn't...Michael couldn't even bear to think of it.

"I'm afraid the Teryn is correct." Michael snapped around to see Duncan walking into the room, Selene trailing behind him. "Howe's men have not yet discovered this exit, but they surround the castle. Getting past them will be difficult." He said sadly, looking down at Michael's father.

Duncan and his parents exchanged a few words, but Michael didn't listen. Instead, he stared at Selene, an idea blooming. Selene was a mage, and she could heal...she could heal his father!

He lurched forward, tightly gripping her arm. Selene yelped, flicking her shocked eyes to him. "You! You can heal him, you can heal my father!" He nearly shouted. At his words, his mother looked to Selene with similar desperate hope.

"I-I can try." Selene said, approaching his father with wide eyes. Slowly, she extended her hands, and a shimmering blue light materialized, spreading out across his father's injured side. Selene screwed up her face in concentration for several moments, but nothing seemed to be happening.

"What's going on?! Why isn't it working?" Michael cried. Selene looked back to him with wide eyes.

"It...the wound is poisoned." She said slowly, shaking her head. "I cannot heal an injury like this." Michael felt as if he had been stabbed in the gut as the realization hit him.

His father was going to die.

His father seemed to come to that realization at the same time as Michael did. "Duncan...you are under no obligation to me, but I beg you...take my wife and son to safety!" Bryce asked desperately, looking at Duncan with pleading eyes.

"I will, your Lordship. But...I fear I must ask for something in return." Duncan said slowly.

"Anything!" His father replied instantly.

"What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil that is now loose in this world. I came to your castle seeking a recruit. The darkspawn threat demands I leave with one." Duncan's voice was firm and insistent. What was he talking about? What did the darkspawn have to do with helping them escape?

A shadow passed across his father's face. "I...I understand."

Duncan nodded solemnly. "Very well. I will take the Teryna and you son to Ostagar, and tell Fergus and the king what has happened. Then, Michael joins the Grey Wardens." What? Michael wasn't going to become a Grey Warden. He had a duty as a Cousland.

"So long as justice comes to Howe," His father said slowly. "I agree." Duncan nodded firmly, and turned to look at Michael.

"Then I offer you a place within the Grey Wardens. Fight with us." Duncan's tone was urgent as he gazed intensely at Michael.

Michael shook his head firmly, glaring at the older man. "No! My job is to take revenge on that back-stabbing bastard, not join your order!" He nearly shouted, unwilling to do anything other than what he said. There was no way that he was going to go join some order of warriors, not while Howe still lived.

Duncan simply stared firmly at him. "We will inform the king, and he will punish Howe. I'm sorry, but a Grey Warden's duties take precedence even over vengeance."

His father spoke up again. "Howe thinks he'll use the chaos to advance himself. Make him wrong pup. See that justice is done." He stopped for a moment, and his next words were choked with emotion. "Our family always does our duty first. The darkspawn must be defeated." He looked pleadingly into Michael's eyes. "You must go, for your sake and for Ferelden's!"

His father was right. He was a Cousland, and these darkspawn could destroy all of Ferelden. "You...you are right, Father. I will do my duty, for you."

Duncan rose to his feet, nodding solemnly. "Then we must go, and quickly."

"Bryce, are you sure?" His mother asked, her voice cracking with despair. His father nodded firmly.

"Yes. Our son will not fall to Howe's treachery." He looked up firmly at both of them. "He will live, and make his mark on the world." Tears welled up in his father's eyes, and he bowed his head. Michael rose up, feeling his own eyes blur with tears. He reached out a hand to help his mother rise, but she simply shook her head, looking sadly up at him.

"Darling, go with Duncan. You have a better chance of escaping without me." No. She couldn't be asking this of him, it wasn't possible.

"Eleanor-" His father began, but his mother quickly cut him off.

"Hush, Bryce." She said, turning to look at him with tear filled eyes. "I'll kill every bastard that comes through that door to by them time, but I won't abandon you!" She said firmly, in a tone that left no room for argument. However, Michael couldn't accept this.

"No, Mother! Please, we can leave together!" She turned back to him, and he looked pleadingly into her eyes. "Please...please don't make me leave you behind, too." His voice broke, and the tears began falling down his face. His mother shook her head slowly, her face a mask of despair.

"I'm sorry. But my place is with your father, at his side to death and beyond. Please my son, you must get to safety." She shoved her pack into his arms, and then wrapped her arms tightly around him. "I love you, my darling boy." Michael felt the knife in his heart twisting and wrenching, as if his soul was being slowly torn out. Slowly, she pulled back from him, tears falling down her face. "Now go, while you still can."

"I'm so sorry it's come to this, my love." His father choked out as she knelt down by him again.

"We had a good life, and did all we could." His mother said gently, holding his shoulders as he coughed violently. "It's up to our children now."

"Then go Pup. Warn your brother." A deafening crash echoed throughout the halls, followed by shouting and the sounds of more battle. "Know that we love you both, and make us proud." Duncan reached down and gripped Michael's shoulder, pulling him to his feet.

"They broken through the gates, we must go now!" Duncan urged, pulling him towards the door. Michael simply stared into the room as he was pulled backwards. He watched as Lady crouched down in front of his parents, ready to spring, and his mother raised her bow, aiming for the door.

"Goodbye, my son." Shadows enveloped him as they entered the passage, and Michael finally turned and began to run, leaving his home and his parents behind him.


	5. Crime Isn't Easy

**A/N: **This story takes place before my primary Origins story, and introduces the major characters. I made this a separate story for a few reasons, the first of which being that I had already typed them up before I realized that I really didn't want them as a part of my main story. The reason I didn't want them in story is because these first few chapters disrupted the flow of the story I had in mind, and I thought that if they were a part of it I would have to change how I wanted it written. But, I already had started and put a descent amount of work into these first few chapters, so I just thought I'll upload them as a short story consisting of the character's origin stories.

**Warning: **This story is rated T for slightly violent scenes of action and language.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything of the Dragon Age universe. This was created purely for fans by a fan. Read and enjoy!

**Gathering Heroes**

**Chapter Five: Crime Isn't Easy**

_"Still, a small segment of the elven community remains dissatisfied. These troublemakers and malcontents roam the streets causing mayhem, rebelling against authority and making a general nuisance of themselves."_

* * *

Nyra huddled down against the shingles, trying to make herself as far out of sight as possible. The guards rushed by her position, shouting the usual things of "after her" and "find that knife-ear". Smiling to herself at their stupidity, she silently rose and turned about, darting along the rooftops in the opposite direction.

She had made out well tonight, snatching a silver necklace encrusted with all manner of jewels. Tomorrow, she would break it apart, and distribute it the next night, and she would be set for another two weeks. Yet before she did any of that, she had to finish her rounds tonight.

Every week or two, she did the same thing. Finished a job, broke apart the goods, and distributed it to her people. The blacksmith who broke apart what she managed to steel was content to look the other way, so long as he got a piece of whatever she was moving. He did the same thing with much of Denerim's solo thieves, even the elven ones.

How many hoops she had to jump through after every job all went back to one simple thing: the shems viewed elves as worthless. She had to have the items she stole broken apart, because any elf bringing in anything with worth would be arrested on sight, because of course they must have stolen it. So, she had to find someone willing to break apart these expensive items into smaller, cheaper bits that, if questioned about, the elves could believably say they found and salvaged.

The city guard appeared to be catching on to the blacksmith's operation, because lately they were paying him regular visits, checking up on what he had in his shop. She could only hope that they didn't start to figure out that most of his clients were elves, and then take it out on the Alienage.

Those were thoughts for another time, though. Instead, she focused on the task of navigating through the maze of back alleys and slums. Moving along the rooftops was quickest, so she kept above ground, agilely leaping from building to building. As she darted along the stone roof tops, she passed those few people who were still out at this time of night, most likely heading back from whatever job they had.

She let herself perform a showy flip off the shingles she stood upon, landing lithely upon the cobblestones of some faceless alley. Now that she was sufficiently within the heart of the city's network of alleyways and slums, she was content to move along the ground, moving along the familiar path to her hideout.

As she moved, she felt a familiar pang of longing for her home within the Alienage, with her father and cousins, Shianni and Soris. How she wished she could see them again, wished she could be with the tattered remnants of her family. The shems took that away from her, however, and now she could never return to the Alienage. One day, that bastard would pay for what he did to her.

Shoving aside those turbulent thoughts, she made the final turn before she approaches her new home. It's little more than a hole in the wall, the door hidden behind piles of crates. Yet despite the dreadful accommodations it was the closest thing to a home she had, and that was enough. As she approached, however, dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

The dingy, rotting door that barely hung on its hinges was open. Only a crack, but that was more than when she left it when she had departed in the morning. Slowly, she moved the crates and silently climbed up them, pulling herself to the roof of the building. Moving quickly, she crossed to the other side and dropped down, approaching the second entrance.

It was a small trap door that opened up to a small crawlspace of appropriate size for an elf of her build. Reaching up, she retied her tangled brown hair, and then checked her daggers before moving forward. Silently, she crawled through, emerging behind the tent of fabric she had placed before the crawlspace. Peeking out through the gaps in the tattered material, she observed her intruder.

It was a large shem, dressed in simple, nondescript chain-mail. He was seated on a crate behind the door, no doubt waiting to jump her as soon as she entered. Really, he expected to get the jump on her with something as basic as that? It would appear she had underestimated the stupidity of humans. With a cry of fury, she emerged from the fabric construct, charging across the room before he could even rise from his seat.

Spinning around, she lashed out with her foot, catching the man in the side of the face and throwing him into the wall. He shouted in pain, and struggled to rise from the ground, fumbling for some kind of weapon. Quickly, Nyra drew her dagger and lunged forward, aiming the blade for his throat.

Before she could reach him, pain erupted in her back, and she felt herself flying sideways, smashing through the door to her hovel and flying out into the street. Groaning in pain, Nyra pulled herself up from the broken pieces of her rotting door, cursing that her dagger had been flung from her hand.

"Damn it!" She snarled, trying to shake off the pain as the one who struck her emerged from the house. It was a second shem, lighter built than the first and dressed in leathers. He must have been on the other side of her hiding place, and she cursed for stupidity for not looking in both directions.

"I suggest you surrender, knife-ear. Our boss would like to have words with you." He growled in some foreign accent, drawing his sword and angling it for her chest. Nyra drew her remaining blade, lowering herself into a crouch.

"Well your boss can kiss my ass, 'cause I'm not going anywhere with you!" She snarled. The man roared in rage and leaped forward, slashing his sword through the air. Nyra ducked low under his strike, shooting her leg out and kicking his feet out from under him. As soon as he slammed to the ground she was on top of him, her dagger itching to slash his throat.

Just as her blade reached his neck, a pair of arms hooked under her shoulders, hauling her off the shem. The arms twisted up and down, pressing her head down while keeping her arms twisted up uselessly above her head.

"This one's a fighter, eh?" Said the second shem to the first, his accent slightly thicker. The smaller shem rose from the ground, giving Nyra a feral glare.

"She wouldn't mind if we delivered the elf a little banged up, now would she?" Said the small shem, cracking his knuckles menacingly. Pathetic.

"Sorry shems, but that's not happening." Nyra growled, and then flew into action. Since she couldn't ram her head into the man restraining her, she instead drilled her foot into his knee, snapping it backwards with an audible crack. The shem screamed in agony, and began to topple sideways. As they fell, Nyra raised both her legs and hooked her feet around the small shem's head, dragging him to the ground as well.

Free herself from the shem's weakened grip, she pulled her legs over her head and rolled backwards into a crouch, snatching up her dagger and clutching it tightly. The two shem's were recovering, so she acted quickly. Moving forward, she slammed her knee into the smaller one's face, then pinned the larger one to the ground, kneeling down on his chest.

"Say good-bye, shem." She snarled, before drawing her blade across his throat, releasing a spray of crimson. One shem down, one to go. When she turned to the other shem, she found him clutching at his broken nose, trying to stem the tide of blood.

"Maybe you should focus on the person who's gonna kill you, rather than your broken nose." She scoffed, stalking towards him. Suddenly, a cry sounded from her left, and someone crashed into her side, tackling her sideways and to the ground. They tumbled across the stone, and her assailant somehow flipped over as they rolled, for as soon as they stopped moving he was already perched on her chest, raising the pommel of his dagger to strike.

Reacting quickly, she gripped the attacker's wrists, holding his arms away from her face. The small, wiry elf snarled viciously, struggling against her grip. With no other alternative, Nyra pulled him forward and herself up, slamming her head into his. The elf groaned in pain, and Nyra used his lapse in focus to wrench him sideways, now holding herself over him.

"An elf? Why are you helping them?" Nyra shouted, pressing her knee hard into his groin, the only sensitive part of him she could reach. The elf simply growled in fury and struggled against her, trying to free his hands. Nyra was about to strike when a foot suddenly appeared in her vision, flying into her face before everything went black.

* * *

Trapped.

The thought repeated itself over and over again in her mind as she struggled against the ropes binding her hands and feet. She was gagged, her eyes blind-folded, and bound like an animal waiting for the slaughter. Nyra was terrified, cold sweat dripping down her brow and fear clutching tightly at her racing heart.

This couldn't be how she died, couldn't be how her short life came to an end. She still had yet to find love, to have children to teach the way her mother had taught her, and to kill the fucking shem who stole her life. She had so much left to do, this couldn't be her end.

Nyra struggled against her bonds, pulling her arms and legs till her muscles screamed and her skin was rubbed red and raw. Her breaths came in short, jagged gasps, and her whole body was one tight mass of pain and fear. Her face still ached painfully from where the shem had kicked her, though her nose had stopped gushing blood before she awoke.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of footsteps. Many footsteps, all around her, surrounding her. Nyra began to struggle even more fiercely, unable to accept that she was about to die.

"Oh, calm down, my dear. I'm not going to hurt you." The voice was female, high and clear, lightly touched with the same accent she had heard from her attackers. This must be the mistress they spoke of. "Bartan, if you would?" At her words, the blindfold was wrenched from her face, and she took in the person in charge.

She had to admit this was not at all who she had pictured. She had imagined hardened, fearsome shem crime boss, who had spent years killing off any competition. Instead, what she got was some pretty young noble woman.

For that was what the chestnut-haired, emerald-eyed woman before her had to be. Elegantly curled hair, shimmering silk dress, and glittering jewels, all of the signs of the self-entitled, arrogant human nobility. The shem smiled at Nyra, as if mocking how powerless she was.

"You are quite the interesting young woman, Nyra Tabris." At the sound of her name, Nyra went rigid, staring in shock at the human woman. How in the name of Andraste's flaming tits did this shem know her name? No one outside of her family knew Nyra Tabris had done anything other than die in the Arl of Denerim's estate.

Seeing her reaction, the shem let out a laugh. "Oh, I know quite a bit about you, Nyra. How's the family doing these days?" Rage burned through Nyra's body, and she struggled against her bonds, trying to force her words out around the gag. "Bartan, the gag as well."

As soon as the gag was removed, Nyra spit in the shem's direction, her face twisting into a venomous sneer. "Fuck you, shem! You don't scare me, and you might as well just kill me now!" She snarled, glaring at the human woman with feral rage.

The shem curled her lips in disgust at the splash of spit that had fallen just short of her. "Truly Nyra, such vulgarities are unnecessary. I am simply here to speak with you." Nyra scoffed at her words.

"Is that why you had your thugs attack me, knock me out and tie me up? So we could talk?" This shem was out of her mind if she thought Nyra would believe such obvious lies. The human waved a hand in the direction of the hulking shem standing beside Nyra.

"Very well, if you object to the bonds so much, then they will be removed." The huge human man reached down, slicing her bonds away. As soon as her hands were free, Nyra reached around and gently rubbed her wrists, trying to get the blood circulating again.

"What do you want from me?" Nyra asked slowly, looking at the crazy human with wary eyes. This shem had to be out of her mind. Even with her hulking guard, with her limbs free Nyra could easily end her life. It was this curiosity that managed to hold back the overwhelming urge to kill and run.

"To make a business proposition." The shem smiled conspiratorially at her. "You see, dear Nyra, I am new to Denerim, and I am in need someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"Someone unattached. Skilled and knowledgeable of the area, but not attached to any other crime syndicate." A cunning smile split her face. "Even better, you're not selfish, so I won't have to kill you later on when you get greedy. Perfect qualities of an assistant, in my opinion." So this shem actually was some kind of crime boss. But how? Nobility like her were air-headed twits that worried about if the color of the dress matches their eyes, not gang leaders.

"So you're hoping to set up shop in Denerim? Why? There isn't much room for newbies around here." Nyra spoke slowly, keeping her eyes focused on the woman who was steadily becoming more than she seemed.

"Because, I hear things are about to get wild here." At Nyra's confused look, the shem let out a little laugh. "Have you not heard? Darkspawn amass in the south, and the King is gathering his army for war. War brings discord, and discord brings profit for people like me." She smiled wolfishly. "My husband and I are interested and getting what we can from this war and pulling out, but to do that I need someone to help show me around."

"Your husband? Is he the one in charge?" Nyra asked, putting the pieces together. This was just the pretty wife of the real crime lord, who was keeping his identity a secret from the help. However, the human woman laughed again, throwing back her head.

"Oh, he would like to think that. However, it is we women who hold all the power, Nyra. I was the one who suggested coming here, and here I am, alone and in charge of our operation." She laughed again, fanning her hand in front of her face. "Goodness that was a funny one, my dear. No, he is far away, and it is I who you will answer to."

Nyra quickly decided she had experienced enough of this shem. "Sorry, but I'm not answering to anyone." She quickly rose, hooking her leg under the chair and flinging it into the face of the woman's hulking guard. He stumbled backwards with a cry, and as he went she reached out and plucked his dagger from his side.

Whirling about, she raked the blade across the throat of the second guard, who fell spluttering to the ground. The third shem was prepared for her strike, and parried her blow with enough force to send her reeling. He pressed his advantage, advancing on her while she was still stumbling away. But as he slashed his sword at her head, she threw herself forward, rolling down in between his legs.

The shem tried to follow her movement, but before he could finish turning she sprang up, stabbing her blade for his throat. Problem was, her arm stopped moving just short of its target, as a slender hand shot out and gripped her wrist.

Snapping her eyes sideways, Nyra was shocked to discover the noble woman gripping her arm, holding her dagger back from the guard. Was the shem bitch out of her mind? Nyra twisted her arm out of the woman's grip and slashed for her throat, her dagger singing as it cut through the air.

Impossibly, the noble easily twisted around the strike, gripping Nyra's wrist and squeezing the nerves so painfully that her fingers released the blade of their own accord. Snarling in rage, Nyra lashed out with her free fist, but the shem flicked her arm up and swept aside the blow.

Who in the name of the Maker was this woman? Nyra went into full attack mode, her body a frenzy of lashing legs and fists. If there was one thing Nyra prided herself on, it her was skill as a brawler. Yet despite her brutal skill, the woman dodged and deflected her every strike, her body weaving with liquid grace around her attacks.

Nyra kicked for the woman's knee, hoping to snap it backwards, but the shem again dodged. She spun around Nyra leg and then reached out, grabbing the back of Nyra's neck and pushing her forward, the shem's leg kicking Nyra's feet out from underneath her. Nyra managed to convert her fall into a flip, her feet flying over her head as she kept herself from crashing face-first into the floor. Springing up to face the human, she ground her teeth, sizing up her surprisingly skilled opponent.

"Do you really want to play this game, Nyra?" The shem smirked, her emerald eyes glinting. This bitch was going to die, Nyra resolved. Throwing herself to the ground, she rolled over her dagger, snatching is up as she went and pulling herself into a crouch, gripping the blade tightly.

The woman altered her stance, leaning back and relaxing her posture. "So be it. Let's play, little elf." At her words, Nyra slowly advanced, swinging her dagger wildly through the air, trying to throw her enemy off guard. Yet when she reached the shem, she ducked weaved around Nyra's slashes, not a single one even grazing her.

Altering her grip, Nyra stabbed for the shem's chest, but the human ducked sideways and gripped her wrist, wrenching the blade from her hand and spinning her aside. Using the spin to her advantage, Nyra whirled about and gripped the woman's arm with her left hand, pulling the limb across her torso and leaving Nyra's right arm free to attack.

She punched the shem hard in the stomach, sending her reeling backwards. Before the bitch was out of reach, Nyra wrapped her arms around her legs, lifting her up and tossing the shem to the ground.

With a snarl of fury, Nyra spun on her heel, raising her leg up and over her head. Using the momentum of her spin to add to the strength of the blow, Nyra brought her foot crashing down with enough force to crush the woman's chest and grind her into the ground. Only thing wrong with that thought was that the shem wasn't under her heel when it slammed down.

She had already rolled away, and was crouched just out of Nyra's reach, smirking at her. Nyra panted with exertion, her muscles screaming at the effort of her attacks. Slowly, the shem reached to the ground beside her, plucking up Nyra's blade and twirling it around.

"That was a good one, Nyra. Almost had me there." She grinned maliciously. "Unfortunately, you are going to have to pay for that shot you got in." Fast as a snake, her arm shot out, releasing the dagger and sending it soaring towards its previous owner. Nyra ducked sideways, the blade singing past her shoulder by barely an inch.

When she turned about, it was to a fist smashing into her face, driving her backwards into a table. Snarling, she lashed out at the shem, but her arm was swiftly gripped and wrenched forward, pulling her into another blow to the face. She was then pulled forth again, and Nyra cried out in pain as she was slammed into the ground, a foot pressing down on her back and a hand pulling her head back by her hair.

"Well, that was more than one hit, but everyone is allowed to get a little caught up in the moment." Came the bitch's floaty voice from above, mocking her. "Now, I think this game has gone on long enough. Bartan, if you would?"

The shem stepped off of her, and then hands gripped her arms tightly, wrenching her up and throwing her into another chair. The shem bitch settled down opposite her, exhaling dramatically and smoothing her hair and dress. For the first time since laying eyes on her, Nyra began to feel fear coiling in the pit of her stomach. Who was this human?

"Really, Nyra, were such dramatics necessary? All I wished to do was make a business offer." Her voice was smooth, as though she hadn't been soundly beating Nyra mere seconds ago.

"And what happens if I refuse? You kill me?" Nyra spoke with fire, but inside she fear tightened her heart. This woman was very capable of killing her, and probably would, once she was done playing with her.

"Of course not, my dear." The human's voice was shocked, as if such a thing was unthinkable. "You are fully capable of refusing, and walking out of here unharmed. However, it is not a choice I would recommend."

"If you won't kill me, then what can you do? I have nothing else to lose." At her words, the shem smiled cunningly, like a cat peering down on a cornerd canary.

"I wouldn't quite say that." What was this shem talking about? She couldn't mean... "Wouldn't it be such a shame if all the elves you help suddenly found their lives more difficult? Especially your dear family."

Nyra lunged forward, her attack only halted by the larger shem's hands. "You wouldn't! Those people have nothing to do with me!" How typical of the shems. Always taking out their petty anger on elves doing no more than getting by.

"Oh, but I would." The human bitch's voice was mockingly victorious. "You see, my dear, I am a business woman. Sometimes, my kind are forced to make the more unscrupulous decisions in order to achieve our goals." Her voice hardened, and she leveled an icy glare on Nyra. "You will do as I ask, or see those innocent people suffer for your own foolish stubbornness."

How could their kind do this? How could they be so willing to harm elves to achieve their goals, to spill the blood of her people simply because it suited their desires? If she agreed, she was trapped in the employ of this cunning and extremely dangerous human woman, yet if she refused, she brought suffering down on people undeserving of it. It appeared her path was laid out before her, and she could feel chains settling around her, pulling her forward.

"Fine! I will do what you want."

"Excellent!" The shem exclaimed, clapping her hands together in joy. "Well, my dear, Bartan will escort you out, and then I will call upon you when I am in need of you." The larger human gripped her arm and yanked her from her seat, pulling her towards the door. "Oh, and by the way, I don't think I ever told you who I am."

He twisted Nyra about, forcing her to look at the shem who would be her new master. "My name is Erisa, and you had better remember it, for we are going to be seeing a lot of each other." The shem smiled, and waved as Nyra was wrenched away. "Goodbye, my dear Nyra."

Nobody ever said being a thief was easy, but Andraste's flaming tits, what had she gotten dragged into?

* * *

**A/N:** And here we have Nyra, my City Elf rogue. Now, I went down a bit of a different road with her, as her origin story has already happened. As you may have read, Nyra escaped the chaos of the Arl of Denerim's estate, and without Duncan there to rescue her, was forced to flee the Alienage. Really, she isn't even going to appear in my main story till later on, and thus she really doesn't need her own chapter in this little story introducing my Grey Wardens. But I just couldn't resist a nice action-packed introduction to her and a future problem for Denerim, Erisa, so here is what I wrote up.

If you read this, thank you so much, it really means a lot to me. If anyone has any suggestions or criticisms, please leave me a review and I'll see if there is anything I can do. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope you will enjoy what I write up in the future. Who exactly is this mysterious woman so easily capable of besting a skilled fighter like Nyra? What does Nyra's future hold with her, and inevitably the Grey Wardens in their quest to defeat the Blight? You'll have to wait and see...


End file.
